


Come Aboard, We’re Expecting You…

by OriginalCeenote



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Becca Barnes is a Good Bro, Buckeye, Bucky is an Art History Professor, Eventual Smut, Facebook Status Updates That Make You Say What the FUCK?, M/M, Pranks, Quickie Marriage AU, Sibling Rivalry, The Strangers to Fake Spouses to Friends to Lovers AU no one ever asked for, Tumblr Prompt, Vacation Romance, Wade Has a Vague Government Job, crackfic, cruise ship au, fake marriage au, parental nagging, silliness, the author is a horrible person, winterhawk - Freeform, you're welcome!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-04-29 14:36:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 35,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14474802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OriginalCeenote/pseuds/OriginalCeenote
Summary: It wasn’t enough to Winifred and George Barnes that their oldest son just scored the perfect job overseas with great pay and benefits, in a beautiful country. Winifred bemoaned his perpetual bachelorhood to every stranger she met on their cruise ship. In an effort to escape her constant nagging, Bucky whips up the prank of a lifetime, with some help from an awkward yet charming stranger.





	1. Blowjobs and Bad Medicine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kangofu_CB](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kangofu_CB/gifts).



> I know a lot of us read the Tumblr story about the English professor on the cruise ship pranking his parents with a fake quickie marriage, and that prompt spawned heaven only knows how many AUs as a result. Here’s my take on it. And I ain’t sorry.

“Do you think there’s mercury in the tuna?”

“Does it say so on the little sign?”

“George.”

“Everything else here is labeled, honey.”

“I’m just asking if you think I should trust the tuna.”

“I don’t know, Mom. Looks pretty shady to me. I think that tuna cheated on its taxes and its girlfriend before we got here.”

“Stop encouraging your father, Jimmy.”

“What? I’m not! I’m just offering a perfectly plausible theory!”

“They list the calories and fat, and if it was made with allergens like nuts or eggs. Why wouldn’t they list incidental poison?” George looked entirely unconcerned as he loaded his plate with pork ribs and jerk chicken. Winifred ‘s sigh was long-suffering, and she finally eschewed the tuna salad and reached for the mixed melon, instead. Becca shot Bucky a triumphant smirk from the table as he returned with his own plate.

“Having fun yet?”

“How did I even end up here? I must have done something in a past life to be stuck on a ship with _your parents_ for a week, listening to _that_.”

“Neither of us would have heard the last of it if you told them they couldn’t come, Bucky. And come on, you wouldn’t have been able to live with yourself if you denied them this.” She motioned around them toward the perfectly blue sky and the pristine banquet tables and ice sculptures and fruit sculptures. “Now they can cross Australia off the bucket list.”

“I’m aware of that. I still blame you.”

“I can’t help it if Mom went snooping around on my kitchen counters and found my tickets, Bucks. What was I going to do? Tell her they were junk mail like the Publisher’s Clearing House sweepstakes?”

Bucky made a ragged noise of disgust. “No.”

Becca had the decency to at least look apologetic. “I didn’t want to spill the beans.”

“No. It’s fine. My baby sister has no choice to rat me out and fess up to our folks that he’s going a trip around the globe to decompress, even though that means they are going to hijack the entire trip and force her older brother to be on better behavior than he’d have to be if he’d just gone _alone_.”

Becca pouted and threw a blueberry from her fruit salad at him. “I said I was sorry! Jerk!”

“When we sneak out later tonight to drink, you’re buying.”

“We’re adults, Bucky. We don’t ‘sneak.’ We omit the truth of our full plan. We creatively dissemble. Or wait til they’re noticeably snoring to tiptoe out the door.”

Bucky snorted into his orange juice, regretting that there was no vodka in it.

At least his parents were finally decompressing and letting their hair down. Winifred had only ambushed him twice so far and smeared him in an extra layer of sunscreen. Bucky counted that as a win. From the moment they boarded the ship and found their assigned rooms, Winifred assailed her children with warnings to “live out of your suitcase, you don’t want to lose anything” and not to trust the seafood offerings at the buffet, and to keep chewing gum on their in case of seasickness. Bucky wondered if she actually planned to relax, or if she would force him to relive his middle school years with well-meaning nagging about his grooming and personal hygiene. 

Winifred and George took up the two empty chairs at the table, and Winifred immediately launched into Eager Tourist mode.

“I want to check out that nice little shop when we dock. The one my friend Sarah told me about at book club. They have Movie Tonight tonight in the lounge. That’s something we could all do together, right?”

Becca rolled her eyes as she worked on a bite of scrambled eggs, and Bucky sighed into his juice.

“We can let the kids wander around a little. You mentioned something about a wave pool and surfing simulator?” George mentioned. That made Becca light up.

“Totally! I’m so there. The brochures made that look like so much fun!”

“You never even swim,” Bucky accused.

“I do, too!”

“You spent every trip we made to the beach on the blanket reading _Sweet Valley High_ books when we were kids, Becks!”

“The beach isn’t the same as a pool! There’s no seaweed in a pool, smarty pants!”

George smirked as he cut his breakfast t-bone, and Winifred rambled on about the eighties cover band playing the following night. Bucky remained underwhelmed.

It was going to be a long five days.

 

*

 

Bucky finally managed to wrangle an evening with his sister and her friend America, who managed to score a ticket on the cruise a couple of weeks after Becca announced that she was coming with Bucky. Bucky didn’t mind; America was funny and mellow, and she’d brought her girlfriend Kate along with her. Both women had good taste in beer, and neither of them were overly concerned with the amount of mercury in the tuna salad. The cover band shouted and mugged their way through a set of Aerosmith songs as Bucky nursed his second bottle of Corona, nursing the Slim Jim he’d stuck in the neck of the bottle to soak.

“So you said you’re an art professor?” Kate shouted to him over the music as she reached for the honey roasted nuts.

“Art history. Neoclassical through the Cubist period,” he clarified. “Freshman take my class for the elective credit, and then I rarely see them again.”

“He’s lying. His students adore him,” Becca challenged. “Half of them sketch him in their notebooks while he’s lecturing.”

Bucky shook his head at that. “No, they don’t.”

“Oh, yes they do. Denial ain’t just a river in Egypt, buddy.”

“It’s the hair. Gotta be the hair,” America suggested. “Chicks dig it.”

“I dig chicks, myself,” Kate told him, “but I’ve gotta admit, your hair game’s on point, Bucky.”

“He does have nice hair,” America agreed. Bucky scrunched his nose as he tried and failed not to laugh.

“Wow,” Becca murmured as she leaned in close to talk to Bucky so she wouldn’t have to keep shouting. “Check out that guy. Somebody’s appreciating the performance.”

“Really?” Bucky wondered for a moment if she was kidding. The lead singer wasn’t doing the microphone any favors. “Cat’s Laughing” was scrawled across the kick drum onstage; Lila, their lead singer, cheerfully informed them that they could find her single on SoundCloud before they started their first set. Bucky was too happy to forget that pertinent information after they proceeded to murder Bon Jovi’s “Bad Medicine.”  
But this blond guy who was around Bucky’s height and build with a boy bandish haircut, broad shoulders and a more than decent ass was currently shaking it for all he was worth out on the too-small dance floor. A small group of onlookers took pictures with their phones from the table nearest the stage. Bucky watched in amused disbelief as he air-guitared - God, he hadn’t seen anyone do that in a _minute_ , how old was this guy? - and did a David Lee Rothesque jump.

“Oh, sweet baby Jesus,” Becca snickered. “He just did that. Bucky, there’s your next boyfriend.”

“Oh, we’re going this today? We’re playing this game?” Bucky loved taking up the gauntlet. “Look,” he said, pointing to a retiree wearing slacks with the waistband that reached his armpits and a bad combover. “There’s your boyfriend.”

“No, I think Air Guitar Guy has him beat. That’s the love of your life, right there. I think you should walk right up to him and introduce him to Mom and Dad.” Then she glanced around. “Or, that guy.” She pointed to a fratty looking brunet in Teva sandals and plaid shorts ordering another round of the featured shots of the night, served in little test tube glasses topped with whipped cream. “Blowjobs,” if Bucky remembered correctly. Because of _course_ a cruise line that specialized in family vacations for all ages picked that drink to plaster across their whiteboard menu.

“No, that’s _your_ boyfriend.”

“I think you’re mistaken.”

America and Kate watched the two of them one-up each other like a ping pong match. Then the band struck up a rendition of “Careless Whisper, turning down the lights, and Bucky noticed a few couples moving hesitantly out onto the floor. Air Guitar Guy reported for his shift as Karaoke Bar Guy and mouthed the words dramatically. Bucky only regretted that they band didn’t have a saxophone soloist to give him the proper backup.

He really was cute, though. And kind of a goofball.

“Dare you to buy him a drink.”

“Pfffttt… yeah, right.”

“Really. Why not? It’s a cruise. Five days. You’ll never even see him again.”

“We’ve still got three days, Becca. That’s long enough to see plenty of him to fully realize the depths of my bad judgment if I do something as ill-advised as buying _that_ guy a drink.”

“Bucky. C’mon. What’s the harm?”

“There’s no harm in it. There’s no help in it, either. He’s some rando at a bar.”

“He’s a cheap date. That looks like Miller Lite.”

“Oh, good Lord.” It was. She was right.

And Bucky watched him head back to the bar counter, sidling up to a taller, skinnier guy with sandy hair whose handsome features were slightly marred by what looked like burn scars. The guy high-fived him and slid him another beer. “That’s probably his boyfriend,” Bucky told Becca triumphantly.

“Doubt it.”

“Could be,” Kate shrugged.

Bucky bit his lip when both men at the bar hit the high note on _Pain is the hole you find_ and both began to air guitar. It must be nice not to have those social hangups. Bucky just hadn’t arrived there quite yet.

But at least the guy knew how to have a good time.

Kate elbowed America and leaned in to ask her, “Wanna blowjob?”

“Baby… not _here_.”

Becca nearly choked on her beer nuts.

“I’m actually getting myself one, you absolute cornball.”

“Oh, fine. Kidding. I was _kidding._ ”

They weren’t cheap. Bucky watched Kate hand the server a twenty and come back with very little change in return as they took two of the shots from his little rack of test tubes. He sprayed each one with a puff of whipped cream and told them “Enjoy, ladies!”

Kate and America tossed back the drinks and continued to banter and flirt with each other while Becca made gagging noises in their direction. They eventually abandoned the Barnes siblings and wandered out onto the dance floor for the prerequisite “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” that made Bucky question whatever turn of events that brought him into this tiny cruise ship bar.

 

“Hey.”

“Huh?”

“This seat taken? Just, this seat. Not like I’m plannin’ on _taking_ any of them. I just wanted to ask if it was all right if I actually _sit_ in one.”

Air Guitar Guy. One hand tucked into his pocket, smiling down at him expectantly. Skin sheened with sweat and smelling like Paco Rabanne. 

Blue. His eyes were blue as tourmalines and crinkled at the corners, telling Bucky he either laughed a lot or was one of those people who always forgot their sunglasses before they left the house on a bright day. Up close, he had a hint of sandy stubble on his jaw and boyish features. His raglan sleeved Under Armour jersey was a flamboyant shade of purple; not too many guys could pull that off. Bucky noticed the little band-aid across the bridge of his nose and instantly wanted to know the story behind how it got there.

“Have a seat.”

“You know I’m not taking it anywhere, though, right?”

“It’s a free country.”

That made his smile widen a notch. “Cool. Hey, I’m Clint.” He reached down and offered Bucky his hand; it felt strong and warm, and his palms were drier than Bucky would have guessed. He had a nice grip.

“Bucky.”

“Bucky? You go by Bucky?”

“Yup.”

“Like the short dude from the old Fat Albert show?”

Bucky’s shoulders shook. “Nah. I know it sounds like it, but it was my sister’s nickname for me when we were little. She couldn’t say ‘Buchanan,’ which is my middle name.”

“Nice. What’s your first name, then?”

“James.”

“James is a name.”

Bucky ducked his face and snickered. “Yeah. Kinda is, last I checked.”

“You look like a Bucky, though.”

“I’ve been told that.”

“Yeah. James is… don’t get me wrong, but James is just so… ‘James.’ Now, ‘Bucky,’ that guy, _he_ sounds like a guy you have a beer with, know what I’m sayin’?”

“Where’s the guy you were just having a beer with a minute ago?”

“Huh? Oh, Wade? He’s heading back to our room to get some Tums. Something he ate at dinner disagreed with him. I warned him not to touch the clams.”

“Sounds like he and my mother would get along just great.”

Clint looked confused.

“Sorry. My mom. She came on the cruise with my sister and I, and she’s been nitpicking the buffet every time we sit down to eat.”

“Oh, that’s your sister? Wow, now that you mention it, you totally look alike!”

“We get that a lot, too.”

“She’s cute!”

“She is _not_.”

Clint cracked up at that. “Guess you wouldn’t think so.”

“Of course not.”

“But, yeah. Y’know. She is. You both kind of are.”

Bucky felt himself fighting the flush that crept over his cheeks and scalp.

Was this really happening?

Was Air Guitar Guy flirting with him?

“Sorry. That was the beer talking.”

“As long as the beer doesn’t open credit accounts in your name and steal your car, you’re all right.”

Clint had been about to take a sip from his bottle of Miller, but he had to set it down for a moment, dissolving into giggles.

Becca caught Bucky’s eye from the dance floor and shot him a look. He willed her to mind her business, but she grinned at him and gave him a not-so-subtle thumbs-up behind Clint’s back. This was going to come back and bite Bucky _so hard._

“So. You’re here with your whole family?”

“That wasn’t the original goal.”

“No?”

“They kind of piggybacked along when my sister spilled the beans that we were going. Next thing I knew, I found myself stuffed into the back seat of their minivan, knees crammed up against my chest behind my dad so he could drive us all there.”

“Saved you the cost of an Uber,” Clint reasoned.

“It still didn’t spare me being stuck in the car behind my parents during rush hour traffic.”

Clint chuckled knowingly around the lip of his beer bottle. “True that.” He wiped his mouth on the edge of his shirt’s neckline. His lips were rosy and slightly chapped. Clint looked like a guy who spent a lot of time in the sun. His skin was already tanned. Bucky nursed a brief wish to see him outside, with the sunlight shining down on that honey blond hair.

“Do you need to check on Wade?”

“Wade? Nah. He’s fine. He’s just getting his second wind. He travels a lot for his job.”

“What does he do?”

“He’s got a government job, the lucky sonofabitch. He’s a federal contractor, which means he’s always sitting at a desk with his thumb up his ass, or they’re always sending him to meetings in other states.”

“Sounds like he’s living the life.”

“What about you, Bucky?”

“I teach. Art history.”

“Art history… wait, so that makes you a professor?”

“Yup.”

“Nice! Professor Bucky!”

“Oh, God… no. Just… that has a horrible ring to it. Please don’t.”

“Nope. I’m taking that and running with it.”

“Did you need a PhD for that?”

“Well, I have one, so-”

“Doctor Bucky!”

Bucky facepalmed, staring at Clint through his fingers. “That. That’s not any better.”

“Dude, it’s _perfect._ ”

They both ordered another round of beers, and Bucky still wondered if Wade was going to return. He didn’t want to ask the obvious question, yet. But then, Clint answered it for him, anyway.

“I just know my best friend’s back at our suite, probably trying to prank me. Last week, he snuck green dye into my shampoo bottle.”

“Seriously?!?”

“Uh-huh. And, hey, I was madder at him for putting in _green_ dye than I was for him doing it in the first place. He knows purple’s my lucky color.”

Clint was fun. They talked their way through several more bad songs and risked the last waning remnants of their sobriety on the blowjob shots, instantly regretting it. The look Clint made said it all.

“Oh, God. That tasted like cough syrup.” He made tongue-scraping motions with his palm. “I hope I live long enough to forget that drink.”

“Wish you didn’t swallow, huh?”

There was that laugh again. “I’m telling your mom you said that.”

“She already thinks I’m the bad influence on my sister. She refuses to believe that Becca’s just as bad.”

“For some reason, I believe that, too.”

Bucky already found himself really liking this guy, but it was a deal-sealer that Clint was giving him the benefit of the doubt.


	2. Meet the Parents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Becca throws down the gauntlet and challenges Bucky to the prank of a lifetime. Their parents are confused.
> 
> Clint and Wade are all in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. This is about to run COMPLETELY off the rails. I’m the conductor of this train wreck. Hold onto your butts.

Becca and Bucky nursed mild hangovers over breakfast the next morning. Bucky stayed at the bar til it closed. Clint made that surprisingly easy. They talked, or rather, argued for most of the night about pretty much _everything_. Best episodes of Friends and Seinfeld. Best Batman movie. (Clint preferred Michael Keaton’s turn as Bruce; Bucky favored Christian Bale in the first two of the Dark Knight films). Football teams. Olympics events. (“What’s the purpose of curling, anyway?”) Who had the worst haircut in high school. Most annoying thing to hear someone order at Starbucks. The worst meal they had ever brought to a potluck; Clint won that one with the time he let Wade talk him into bringing stuffed cabbage rolls that stunk up the whole office for three hours. 

They rose unsteadily from their seats, and Clint gave Bucky a fist bump, but then pulled him in for a lopsided hug that Bucky found he didn’t mind. That Paco Rabanne cologne smelled a little stronger from his sweat, and Bucky also picked up a hint of his shampoo. Some lonely, affection-starved part of him really… _really_ appreciated that hug. Bucky pulled back reluctantly.

“So, are we gonna be ship buddies? You up for doing anything tomorrow?”

“I haven’t worked out a plan past breakfast yet. Thought about reading out on the deck, but-”

“Aw, no! You can read any time! You’re on a cruise! You’ve gotta do touristy shit! Hey, me and Wade, we’re considering the skydiving simulator. You should come, man!”

“Oh, wow...that’s… I can just hear my mom wigging out.” Bucky cracked a crooked grin, though, already kind of liking the idea.

“It looked great in the brochure. You can’t tell me it’s not fun jumping off of stuff.”

“I’ll think about it. If I can break away from my folks for a little while.”

“Okay. Hey, it was great hanging out with you.”

“Don’t, uh. Don’t be a stranger.”

Clint scratched the space beside the band-aid across his nose. “No worries. Night, Bucky.”

“Night.”

Now, though…

 

Bucky sprawled supine on one of the webbed lounge chairs on the deck with his baseball cap pulled over his face, with his lightweight flannel shirt draped over himself like a blanket. The breeze ruffled his hair and cooled his burning head. A hangover breakfast of mostly meat curbed a fraction of his headache, and he just wanted to flop in peace and recover from the night before and its various indiscretions.  
More than anything, though, he just wanted to get away from his parents for an hour. Maybe two.

Winifred had breezed inside his suite, thrown open his blinds, and let in all of the evil sunlight and uncaring glare. 

“Becca,” Bucky groaned.

“This wasn’t my idea,” Becca told him solemnly. “Just so you know.”

She was hiding raccoon eyes behind her sunglasses, and her cheeks looked as pasty as Bucky felt. His tongue tasted like rubber tires. Gnomes with jackhammers signed a lease to rent out the space in his head overnight.

“You can’t sleep away the day in here! There’s so many things we still haven’t done, Jimmy!” Winifred moved about the room, tidying it and gathering up his discarded, crumpled clothes. She sniffed his shirt and grimaced. “Someone had a rough night,” she accused.

“It was fine, Mom,” he grumbled from under the covers. 

“Turn down your air conditioner. You don’t want to catch a sinus infection. Honestly, George. I raised such unruly children.”

“You’re out of control, Bucky,” Becca agreed, just to get his goat.

Bucky stuck his tongue out at her and threw a pillow in the general vicinity of her face. She ducked it sharply, then held her temple at the way that movement made her own head throb.

Winifred tsked at them both and gave George a long-suffering look.

Bucky suffered a breakfast filled with judgment and lectures. At least the weather was beautiful, balmy and warm. He became best friends with the bacon, going back for two more servings.  
“Hey, there!” Clint and Wade waved over to him, and Bucky felt a hint of jealousy and annoyance at how fresh he looked, as though the alcohol never touched him. Clint wore a dusty blue seersucker shirt whose sleeves were rolled up over his elbows, exposing tanned biceps, and it was unbuttoned down the front to show off a pristine white tee. He paired it with buff colored linen pants and Keds with no socks. He made generous use of his hair product; his short blond locks were spiky, just this side of messy. It worked. Boy, did it work…

Bucky waved back, knowing he looked like death warmed over, but Clint’s smile was impish as he stopped by Bucky’s table.

“Hey! Is this your family? This good looking lady has to be your mother!” He reached out to shake George’s hand first, and he gentled his grip for Winifred. “I’m Clint. Met your son last night while we were listening to the band.”

“This guy knows how to cut a rug,” Becca told her parents. The compliment made Clint’s eyes crinkle, and he gave her a rusty laugh.

“Nah. I was just enjoying myself. That’s what you do on a cruise, right?” While he visited, Wade perused the brunch buffet, plucking a blueberry from the fruit salad bowl and tossing it up in the air, catching it in his mouth. Unsanitary, Bucky decided, but deft.

“Life’s too short, and cruises ain’t cheap,” Becca chimed in.

“Truer words,” Bucky said. “You look rested.”

“Slept like a baby. Feel pretty good. Hey, know what? Skydiving! You and me! We need to try that out!”

“The skydiving simulator,” Bucky explained to his mom.

“That looks a little risky,” Winifred urged him to consider. 

“Mom! It’s an indoor chamber! It’ll be fine!”

“You might fly into a wall!”

“They have a trainer inside there with you, ma’am,” Clint told her. “He’ll be fine. I’ll keep an eye on this wild man.”

Said the guy who air guitared through twelve songs straight and chased beer with mixed drinks. And who actually pulled Bucky out onto the dance floor for the last number, even though Bucky wasn’t much of a dancer. Wade and Becca cheered them on from the sidelines, whistling and clapping, but Bucky was too drunk to care. Clint’s laughter and the bleary, easygoing glaze over his eyes made Bucky want to live in them. 

He was uncomplicated. Sometimes, Bucky just _craved_ the uncomplicated.

Bucky was noncommittal about the skydiving. Clint headed off to his table with a cheerful “I’ll leave you guys to your eats! Later, Bucky!”  
“Catch you later, man.”

“He seemed nice,” Winifred murmured. “Where did you meet him, again?”

“The bar.”

“Oh.” She avoided further comment, taking renewed interest in her yogurt and fruit.

Winifred dragged him to the gift shop to pick out souvenirs and spent way too long asking him for opinions. Bucky was about ready to collapse. She nattered at the sales staff about “her son who doesn’t know how to enjoy a vacation.”

While she paid for her purchases, she told the cashier, a cute, skinny blond with thick-framed reading glasses, “If he was married, he wouldn’t stay out so late and burn the candle at both ends.”

The guy smiled indulgently and caught Bucky’s stink-eyed glare over his mother’s shoulder, which made him laugh silently as he ran Winifred’s American Express.

“We’ve got Tylenol, Advil and Aleve here, if you need any, sir.” He gestured to the display of overpriced travel-sized meds behind the counter.

“Advil,” Bucky pronounced. He reached into his pocket for his wallet. “This an easy gig?”

“It’s retail,” the guy said, shrugging. “But it’ll do for now. I’m back to school in the fall, working on my master’s.”

“You poor bastard.”

The guy chuckled. “Don’t I know it. But it’s worth it, right?”

“It can be. It might be, eventually. I love teaching, but it’s not much easier on the other side of the desk.”

“What subject?”

“Art history.”

“Now you’re speaking my language, buddy. Hey, I’m Steve.” The guy was tiny, but he had a warm, strong grip, and he spoke with a low voice.

“Bucky.” 

“Great meeting you. I’ll probably see you around.”

“Not much choice, I guess, considering.” Considering it was a boat.

 

Bucky finally retreated to the lounge chairs on the deck and did his best impression of a pancake. Becca wandered out and joined him for a while with her book, resuming Winifred’s chore of slathering his face and arms and anywhere else that was peeking out with sunscreen.

“I know you and Mom think that doesn’t get old, but you’re wrong.”

“You lobster up when you stay out in the sun too long.”

“Whatever. Quit touching me.”

“Jerk. You’re _welcome_.” Becca settled back with her book and stole one of his Aleve tablets, chasing it down with some club soda. 

After a while, she mentioned “Mom’s on a weird kick right now about how you’re unmarried and irresponsible, and how you’d be happier if you settled down.”

Bucky growled from under his hat.

“That was the conversation by the poolside a little while ago.”

“Couldn’t change the subject?”

“She was on a roll. I scuttled off before she started lecturing me.”

“Boss move.”

A little while later, Becca stuck her bookmark into her novel and set it down beside her. “Hey. Y’know what? You’re doing a good job, Bucky.”

“Mmmmnnnh.”

“Are you agreeing with me or just making noises so you don’t have to actually hold up your end of the conversation?”

“Mmmmnnhh. Mmm-hmmnhh.”

“And you’re not irresponsible. Not any more than I am, anyway.”

“Is this your idea of a pep talk?”

“Kind of. Is it working? Are you getting peppy and gassed up?”

Bucky sighed.

“Right. Well, for what it’s worth, this is all pretty awesome. You did this. You checked a box. World traveler!”

“Sure. Look at the places I’ll go…”

Winifred bought him a copy of that Dr. Seuss book when he finished grad school. Becca joked with him that after so many months of research, he probably didn’t want to read anything more complicated than that going forward.

“Are you happy, Bucky?”

“Eh.”

“Eh?”

“Ehhhhhh. Sometimes.” Bucky peeked out from beneath his hat and shirt cave. “I needed this. I’ll admit it. It’s been so long since I’ve just been able to relax and kick back. Thought I forgot how.” He turned to her. “Ever just feel like you need someone to get into trouble with?”

“Buddy, who are _you_ telling?” Becca chuckled at him. “America and Kate slept in today. That Do Not Disturb sign ain’t comin’ down, now matter how much housekeeping wants to get into that room. See?   
That’s what you need.”

“They only like girls, Becks.”

Becca reached over and smacked him, making him yelp, but he snickered at her and settled back down under his shirt. “You know what I’m talking about, dork.”

It was fun to mess with her. “Yeah, well. I’m taking applications.”

“Hurry up and find a decent guy and settle down, then.”

“Easier said than done.”

“Okay. Find a decent guy and get into foolish shenanigans, then.”

“Not off the table.” It really wasn’t.

Becca grinned, then. “Hey. I like Clint. He’s a crack-up.”

“He’s here with Wade. I don’t know what the situation is with those two.”

“Platonic,” Becca told him. “He caught up to me as I was coming out of the ladies’ room and ordering another round of shots. They fooled around a little in college and realized it wasn’t working, but they still made good roommates. So, there’s that. He’s available.”

“Please tell me you didn’t try to get him interested in me.”

Becca clammed up and picked up her book. Her expression was innocent.

“Becks. Rebecca Jane Barnes.”

“What?”

“You weren’t fishing? Tell me you weren’t fishing and telling him about me?”

“I wasn’t doing anything of the sort. I was just having a nice conversation with him. And it just happened to come up that he’s single, that’s all.” Becca grinned more smugly. “And that you have long eyelashes.”

“Pfffft… seriously?”

“Well, it was in the context of ‘Wow, you guys look alike! Both of you have, like, wicked long lashes! Those aren’t falsies? He doesn’t paste them on, does he? Don’t tell him I asked that, though. I mean, those have gotta be his, right?”

“I think he was messing with you, Becks.”

“Hey, it was a compliment. A goofy compliment, but those still count.”

They eventually got up and stretched. Bucky laced his fingers together, lifted his arms and extended them over his head until he heard his vertebrae crack, The hem of his shirt lifted, exposing his abdomen, and Becca reached out and poked him in the navel just to make him yelp.

“Hey, Buckaroo!” Bucky heard Clint call out to him, and he laughed at the sight of him in the blue skhydiving suit. Wade was with him, digital camera slung around his neck by its strap, and he was grinning in anticipation.

“Looking good, Barton,” Bucky told him as he approached.

“Hey, I think this works for me. Just wish it came in purple. Hey, wanna tag along and watch? Better yet, get in there with us.”

“I don’t know if I’m up to it yet.”

“Aw, no! Come with us, anyway. You might wanna join in if you at least watch, huh?”

“Watch this guy make a fool out of himself,” Wade encouraged. “I also told him I’d pay him five bucks if he farts while he’s in there.”

“Easiest five bucks I’ll ever make.”

Bucky’s shoulders shook. “Wow. Okay. That… you just won me over. I’m going with you.”

*

Bucky got his second wind and ended up spending the rest of the afternoon with Wade and Clint. They played games in the lounge, did the ropes course, mock-skydived and eventually hit the Jacuzzi. The warm rush of bubbles felt good against Bucky’s neck, shoulders and back.

“This is better than sex,”: Clint groaned. “Almost.”

“You ain’t lyin’,” Wade agreed as he rubbed his face with his wet, rosy palms. “Gonna be a struggle to get back out.”

“Just take me out when I’m well done,” Bucky stated. “I’ll be fine.”

Clint nodded, smiling and making little shooty fingers at Bucky. “Will do, Buckaroo.”

They chatted and picked up where they left off the night before. Clint actually worked as a personal trainer at the gym down the road from Bucky’s campus and he co-owned a shooting range with his brother Barney. Archery was his specialty and his passion, which explained his arms. Sleek, hard, and gracefully veined. 

“I needed to get away from it all. Just a few days to let the rest of the world fuck off for a while, y’know?”

“Yeah. I do.”

“I think we deserve it, right?”

“I sure do,” Wade told them.

“Heck, yeah.”

“It was cool that you brought your folks, Bucky.”

“Mmmm.”

Clint’s lips twitched. “That sounded ominous.”

“My folks are my folks. My mom loves me, but I’m her favorite disaster.”

“No. I don't get that from your mom. I mean, I just met her _today_ , but I get the impression that she’s crazy-proud of you, Buck.”

“She wants me to settle down.”

“Yeah, well… it’s nice to want things, isn’t it?”

Bucky laughed, face tipping forward into the water a little. He almost choked on a ripple of foam for his troubles.

“And this is a cruise ship. People think these things are _romantic_. You never know. Maybe you’ll find the love of your life between now and Australia.”

“Yeah, let me get right on that. Forty-eight hours is plenty of time to find the guy I’m gonna tie the knot with.”

Clint glanced at him, cocking his head. “It could happen.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Hey, guys!” Becca showed up in her bikini and a soft terry cover-up, towel slung over her arm. “Bucky, I told you that you needed more sunscreen. You’ve got these weird patches of sunburn, now. You look like a candy cane.”

“Thanks, Becca.”

“Awwww!” Clint gave Becca a wounded look. “I like candy canes!”

“Just call him Kris Kringle,” Wade muttered dryly as he let his feet float up in front of him.

Bucky felt his stomach do a funny little dip. Clint was staring at him. Bucky realized he’d edged closer to him. Their shoulders were almost touching, and Bucky could see the pores in his skin and the faint down of fine stubble above his upper lip.

Damn it. He was staring at his _mouth_.

“Mom’s searching for us and wants us to commit to dinner with them,” Becca informed him as she shucked her wrap and eased into the spa.

“Hey, Becca. Your brother doesn’t think he’ll find the love of his life on this cruise.”

Becca cackled. “Wait, is that the goal, now?”

“No! It’s so not the goal!” Bucky argued, but he was laughing, and some of the other tourists were watching them from the edges of the pool. 

“God, wouldn’t it be great if you did? Or if Mom and Dad thought you did?” Becca told them. “Man, that’d be great. Mom would never lecture you about not being able to settle down again.”

“She’d still think I was irresponsible, though. She wouldn’t be wrong.”

“What? You? You seem like you have your head on right,” Clint teased.

“Hey, if I got you to believe that…”

“Mom’s been on a tear trying to make sure Bucky doesn’t die alone,” Becca explained. “I’d love to see what would happen if you actually did just up and get married. Just at random to somebody at the drop of a hat.”

“Hey,” Wade wondered aloud, “don’t they do weddings at sea? Aren’t some ship captains officiants for stuff like weddings?”

Bucky looked confused. “I… guess?”

“They are,” Clint chimed in, nodding. “I’ve heard that.”

“So you could have a wedding at sea,” Becca said.

“It’s scenic,” Wade said.

“You’ve already got food and seating arrangements,” Clint said.

Bucky started to laugh. “Okay, that still doesn’t settle the problem of the groom.”

Becca bit her lip.

“What?” Bucky asked. ‘What’s so funny?”

“Bucky, wanna pull one over on Mom and Dad?”

“What? How?”

“Get married. Tell them you’re getting married on the ship.”

Wade was giggling, but Clint was listening with avid interest.

“To who? Some rando walking around on the deck?’

“Hey-o. Some rando, at your service.” Clint raised his hand up out of the water.  
“What?!”  
 _What?_  
“Are you serious?”  
“Well, no. I mean, it’s a prank. But, actually, yeah. I mean, I’m serious about helping you go through with it. I mean, we’ve already done the ropes course. I don’t have anything better to do.”

“This is definitely a bucket list item,” Wade agreed.

Bucky felt like he’d walked into a sitcom. “Marry you. Here. At sea. On our Australia trip.” 

“Oh, Bucky, Mom would freak out. She’ll flip her wig. It’ll be _classic._ ”

Bucky stared at all three of them. Clint looked expectant.

And he looked really, really good wet, with droplets of water beading up on his skin, making it glisten, and with his damp, dark lashes making his eyes appear even more blue.

“A cruise ship wedding,” Bucky said. The words felt foreign on his tongue. And a strange excitement began fizzing in his chest.

“I’m game,” Clint told him.

“I can be his best man,” Wade said.

“I can be yours,” Becca told her brother. “America and Kate won’t mind pulling bridesmaid duty if you don’t make them buy dresses that they’ll never wear again.”

Bucky covered his mouth with his palm, stifling his laughter. “Oh, my God. Okay. This… this is kind of awesome.”

“Wanna do it?” Becca asked.

“I think he wants to do it,” Clint said. There was a gleam in his eye. Bucky was a sucker for it.

“I think we’re gonna do it,” Bucky said, throwing his lot in with Clint. 

 

Hey. You only lived once.

*

In hindsight, Bucky should have probably waited until his mom was finished chewing her bite of baked sole before dropping the bombshell. “So, Mom. Dad. I’ve got something to tell you.”

“Wait til he gets here, Bucky,” Becca hissed.

But it was hard. Bucky was bursting with the need to get this out onto the table. _Dying_ with the need for it.

They were fresh scrubbed in their evening clothes. Bucky pulled his hair back in a ponytail and even shaved for the occasion, and he wore a short sleeve purple buttondown, just for the sake of playing along and making an impression. Becca told him that Clint would approve.

“Who gets here?” George asked.

“Clint’s going to join us,” Becca said.

“Oh. That’s nice, I suppose.” Winifred worked on her steamed spinach and mushrooms.

“He really enjoyed meeting you guys,” Bucky mentioned casually.

“Well, why wouldn’t he?” George gave Bucky a pointed look and wiggled his eyebrows at Becca, who wiggled hers back and laughed.

“No, he really liked you. He wanted to talk with you a little more tonight and get to know you.”

Bucky managed to keep a straight face. Barely.

Winifred made a thoughtful noise around her sole.

Clint showed up, and Bucky stood up from his seat immediately and pulled out a chair for Clint. “Awwwww, aren’t you nice!” Clint pronounced, and his eyes had that gleam again. He wrapped his arm around Bucky’s shoulders, giving them a little squeeze.

_Showtime._

“You _look_ nice,” Bucky countered.

Becca bit her lip and took a sip of her soda.

Wade came up and shook hands with Winifred and George. “Didn’t get to meet you earlier. I live with this guy. Probably not for much longer, but. Y’know.”

“Oh. Er…” Winifred smiled but looked confused.

“You know how it is. When your roommate tells you he’s found somebody, you know you’re going to have to make other plans. Clint’s been a great roommate, though. Top drawer. The cream of the crop.”

Wade was laying it on thick. Bucky watched his parents eat it up, and he almost felt guilty, but this would go down as the most mindbending prank of all time if they could just _pull it off_.

“You wanna tell them, or should I?” Clint told Bucky, leaning in close. His eyes flitted over Bucky’s face, including his lips.

“I want the honor. Hey, Mom? Dad?”

“Yes, dear?” Winifred took a bite of her fish.

“I know this seems a little soon. But Clint and I have talked about it, and I think we have something really special. We’ve decided to get married.”

Winifred stopped chewing.

“Wait… what?” George set his drink down. 

“We’re tying the knot! Hi, Mom! Hi, Dad!” Clint told them. He hugged Bucky and gave him a peck on the cheek, grinning at him. “I can’t wait to join the family!”

Winifred choked on her fish, and Becca cried out, “Oh, shit! Mom! MOM!” before rushing to the other side of the table to help. Winifred coughed and eventually spit the rest of the fish into her napkin. She was hoarse and indignant as she reached for her water and took a sip. 

“That went well,” Wade mused quietly. His smile around the table was beatific.


	3. Making It Up As We Go Along

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Clint… get… married. Yeah. That… that happens.
> 
> Clint turned to Bucky, leaning against the deck railing and dangling a beer bottle from his fingertips. “So. That was fun. Now what?”
> 
> “I dunno. Now what, what?”
> 
> “Eh. I just…” Clint’s eyes crinkled and he looked away, chuckling under his breath.
> 
> That teased a grin out of Bucky, and he bit his lip. “What?”
> 
> “Just guess I was wondering if we’d get a honeymoon out of this, is all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. Yeah. So, I’ve been away from this for a while, because life has been rough, and I’ve been too exhausted by the time I have the time to write that I can’t find the actual energy to make words. Bear with me. This chapter? This is me, winging it. Winging it, and writing the thing so that the thing will be written. Thanks in advance, if you’re still on board.
> 
> On board. Heh. Boating pun.

“Okay. So. Be honest with me. Red, or blue?” Becca held up a couple of sundresses by their hangers and gave each a little shake for emphasis.

“For what?”

“For the wedding, you doofus!” Becca tsked in disgust and rolled her eyes. “God, you’d think you’d be a little more helpful.”

“Becca… it’s a _dress_.” Bucky made a dismissive gesture, palm splayed over his chest. “What do I know about dresses?”

“It’s the dress I’m going to be wearing in all the pictures of your mock wedding to make our parents wig out. You’re entitled to have an opinion about this kind of thing.”

“She’s got a point.” Steve glanced up from the packs of earbuds and phone chargers that he was pricing with his labeler and hanging on the display behind the register. He watched them shop in amusement, enjoying the commotion and spectacle of the past day and a half. Ever since Bucky and Clint made their big announcement at the dinner table, the whole prank just kept _snowballing._

 

Wade, in typical, overdramatic fashion (Bucky had grown fond of the offbeat shit that always seemed to tumble out of his mouth at random moments; Wade wasn’t shy about reminding Bucky, “Hey. I would’ve been your fake husband if you’d JUST ASKED, JAMES. SHEESH.”) stood up just as Winifred was regaining her breath from her choking fit and tapped his water glass with his fork, filling the space around them with its ringing, cheerful tones. Bucky’s stomach twisted in anticipation as he tried to keep a straight face. Clint, on the other hand, was grinning behind his fist. George and Winifred didn’t notice; they were too busy watching Wade work the room.

“Uh, attention, everybody? May I have your attention? Hey there. Good evening. So, I’m pleased as punch to make a little announcement. This handsome fella right here just asked my roommate to marry him. Yeah, I’m talking to you, pal. My friend James Buchanan Barnes, right here, just offered to make an honest man out of this dork who lives with me. And being the kinda guy I am - and by that, I mean AWESOME! - I’ve agreed to let him steal my roommate from me. Clinton Francis Barton, you broke my heart, pal! I thought what we had was _special!_ ” Several people around the room droned, “Awwwwwww!” as Wade made eye-wiping motions with his knuckles. Clint, to his credit, actually looked touched, and he spread his arms in a helpless gesture, dropping them for a moment, and then raising them again when Wade indicated he wanted him to console him. But the hug lasted for a second and a half before Wade pushed him off and said “No. No. Too late for that now, Petunia. No kissing up. I know when I’ve been replaced.”

“Awww, no! Wade!”

“No, no. We had a good run, Clinton. Clinton Francis. And yes, folks, his middle name really is Francis.”

“They didn’t need to know that!” Clint retorted.

“Yes, they did. Anyhoo, I was going somewhere with this. Right! So, I’d like everyone to join me in congratulating these two, and we’d like to invite you all to the wedding!”

The serving staff set down their platters and towels and began to clap, and the captain and first mate rose from the captain’s table, waving them over. Bucky felt embarrassment lance through his stomach, because this was becoming a spectacle, but Clint glanced at him, eyes dancing with something akin to excitement, and that reassured Bucky. _What the heck? Why not?_

“I can’t believe you’re going through with this,” Becca whispered. “Mom’s _so_ wigging out right now.”

“C’mon, babe,” Clint encouraged as he leaned over and reached for Bucky’s hand. His grip was warm and snug, and that uncoiled some of the tension in Bucky’s body. He also felt something else in that grip… just, something comforting and familiar. Strong. Clint smelled like Malibu rum and Old Spice, and he looked halfway respectable in a lavender guayabera shirt with black embroidery on the pockets and linen pants rolled up at the ankle. Bucky was still enjoying those bare arms and the open, unbuttoned collar showing off the line of his neck and the sprinkling of blond hair below his collarbones. Clint tugged him toward the captain’s table, where they were greeted with respectful smiles.

“So, congratulations are in order, gentlemen. Here’s hoping you’ll be happy for years to come.”

“Thanks!” Clint was beaming, and he squeezed Bucky’s hand again, giving his arm a little swing. Bucky bit his lip and felt a flush rise in this cheeks. “We’re really excited about this! His parents and sister are here, too!”

The captain raised his eyebrows. “Oh. Family trip?”

“Yup,” Bucky confirmed.

“This couldn’t have worked out better if we’d planned it, and y’know, that’s… that’s where you guys come in,” Clint told him. He leaned in and talked to the captain while Wade lingered behind them, still playing to the crowd and telling a fraudulent story of how Clint and Bucky met. “We need you guys to marry us.”

The first mate rocked back on his heels. “Oh, you don’t say? Oh, wow! We haven’t done this in a while! Okay. Okay. We’ll need some more details.”

“You can, right? You can marry us?” Bucky blurted out, and his heart was pounding from how impulsive and off the rails this felt. Clint was still swinging his hand, and Bucky didn’t make him stop. Clint leaned in and bumped shoulders with Bucky, giving him one of those knowing, impish smiles of his. _Relax,_ those light blue eyes seemed to tell Bucky. _Take it easy. I’ve got this._

They were really going to do this.

“...and they reached for the same box of basil and tomato Triscuits on the shelf, and neither of them wanted to let go of it,” Wade told the crowd, earning himself a wave of low chuckles. “And Clint told him, ‘Well, I guess the only way we’re gonna settle this is if I come over and help you eat them.’ If you don’t think that’s romantic, then you’re all made of stone.”

“Oh, God,” Bucky muttered.

“They’re salty, but they’re good,” Clint told Bucky. 

“Guess that’s something I should know.”

“Eh.” 

Bucky knocked his shoulder up against Clint’s again for good measure, and Bucky decided the hand-holding was nice, but a little more contact would be nice, and he eased his hand free, sliding his arm around Clint’s waist. “Oh. Hello, there,” Clint purred. His eyes crinkled when he smiled, and his arm automatically draped itself around Bucky’s shoulders. The first mate watched them knowingly, tucking his hands into his pockets and rocking on his heels again.

“We’ll need to do a little paperwork,” the captain told them. “You’ll need to file it with your clerk’s office when we’re stateside again.”

“Hey, works for us,” Bucky told him.

“Were you wanting to do something before we reach Sydney, or when we reach the port?”

“On the boat is nice,” Clint said. “I’ve always had this thing about wanting to get married on a boat. It’s just one of those things.”

“Just one of those things,” Bucky echoed.

Right. Okay. _Okay_.

Behind him, Bucky heard his mom wondering aloud, “Since when does he like Triscuits?”

 

That left Bucky, Becca, Wade and Clint making haphazard, slightly rushed preparations. He was grateful for the ship’s wi-fi access as he posted Facebook and Instagram updates. He started with a cryptic post of _Stranger things have happened_ , and about once every ten minutes, Bucky would post photos of random things, like his sandaled feet on the end of the lounge chair with the ocean in front of him, saying things like _Sure will be great to have someone to share this with from now on._ He kept checking for replies impatiently, knowing that the time zone difference would put a damper on them for a few hours. He kept making random posts, until Becca noticed what he was doing and began tagging him in her posts, too. 

_Sister of the groom, bitches!_ Bucky didn’t even realize that Clint was already on her Instagram until she tagged @hawkeyecawcaw on that post after she tagged Bucky. 

“Hey, he didn’t mention his Instagram,” Bucky muttered as he peered down at his phone and clicked on Clint’s profile. “Oh. Wow.”

There were tons of pictures of Clint living it up. Most of them were taken outdoors. Guy did a little of _everything_ , apparently. Base jumping. Snowboarding. Parasailing. Archery… wait. Right. That, he did for a living. Riding quads. Rock climbing. Heights didn’t seem to scare Bucky’s “fiance” much, if he had to guess from his photo album, and from his friends’ comments, it sounded like they were as fearless as Clint. In almost all of the pictures, Clint was tanned, wearing snug wetsuits or Under Armour, workout clothes, or he was missing his shirt. His smile was constant, unselfconscious, and dazzling in every frame. Someone - Wade, if Bucky had to guess - took some of those shots close up, close enough for Bucky to see those brilliant blue irises and all the different glints of luminous color in their depths.

Becca elbowed him, and Bucky realized he’d been gaping. “You didn’t ask him if he had an Instagram, duh!”

“Hey. Be nice to me. I’m getting married. You’re my maid of honor, you’re supposed to be supporting me!”

Becca’s laugh was lofty and dry. “Come again? Supportive? Are we assuming that I’m supposed to support _you_? The same guy who drove me and my date to the prom-”

“Hey, I couldn’t get out of it. Mom and Dad made me do it!”

“- and who ruined my blowout that took me two hours with the curling iron by rolling down the windows when he drove us down the freeway?”

“I said I was sorry, Becks!”

“Worst. Prom. Photo. EVER.”

“It wasn’t that bad… you were going for _volume_.”

“That wasn’t ‘volume.’ That was ‘had a run in with a buzzsaw.’”

“You get to have alcohol. That’s an improvement over prom night.”

“Alcohol that I don’t have to hide,” she reminded him. “And… you’re right. Okay. Fair enough.”

“Are Kate and America on board for this?”

“To be bridesmaids? You know it. As long as they don’t have to buy a tea-length, pastel-colored, off the shoulder horror that they’ll never wear again, they’re in.”

“No pastels. I promise. But that doesn’t mean no tacky bridal party photos, because no one’s escaping those.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’m already hitting Pinterest to find the cheesiest ones I can. Wade is, too.”

Bucky smirked. “Awesome.”

“Will that make Wade your roommate-in-law?”

Bucky shrugged. “I dunno. I don’t know how that works… and isn’t that kinda moot? I mean, I’m not actually gonna _live_ with the guy!”

“You’re always have Australia,” Becca intoned. “This is gonna be a memory you can tell your kids one day, if you ever have any.”

“Maybe in my next life.”

“Barton loves kids. I was looking through Wade’s phone. They have some really cute pictures of the two of them at Wade’s niece’s fifth birthday party. The kids were climbing him like a tree. He was a big goofball in _all_ of them.”

“Wade?”

“Clint, doofus. C’mon, Bucky. Focus.”

Bucky ignored her just long enough to open his own phone and to add Clint on Instagram. And Wade, since most of his photo album was of Clint, anyway. What could Bucky say? He was a fan.

Becca finally decided on an affordable blue sundress printed with large hibiscus flowers. Steve rang her up and asked Bucky, “Hey, is it okay if I bring a guest to your wedding?”

“My big, fake wedding that I’m throwing to prank my parents? Heck, yeah! Who are you bringing?”

“Sam. You’ll like him. I hope you get the chance to meet him. He actually works in engineering.” Steve’s smile and voice were fond. Becca gave him a knowing look.

“Wanna make it a double ceremony? C’mon, Steve. Get in on this.”

“Nope! Not gonna steal Bucky and Clint’s thunder.” Steve flushed at the very thought. “And we’re not quite there yet. We’re on our way.”

“Uh-huh.” Becca gave him the same smile that Bucky had learned to fear since he was twelve. “Let’s bookmark that idea.”

Steve wisely backed up a step and nervously straightened his glasses.

“Becca, quit it.”

“Calm down, Bucky. I’m just messing with him. You never let me have any fun.”

“There’s a reason for that.”

“Hey, I apologized for putting the purple dye into your shampoo that one time.”

In hindsight, it hadn’t been that sincere of an apology, but Bucky decided to let that slide.

*  
Winifred was still wigging out. In fine form.

First, she tried wheedling. That was the sharpest knife in her rack for Bucky’s entire existence.

“You’re really going through with this? James, sweetheart. You know I try not to question your choices.”

_Bullshit_. That was like saying that McDonald’s didn’t try to hoard their ketchup.

“I’m really going through with this. When it’s right, it’s right.” Bucky was bursting with the urge to yell, “Gotcha!” But he kept a straight face and continued to go through his suitcase. “What do you think of this shirt for the ceremony?”

“Well it’s nice, but-”

“Should I go with blue? That’s how it works, isn’t it? Something borrowed, something blue?”

Winifred looked stumped. “For this, I honestly have no clue. You’re not technically the _bride_. I don’t know if you follow that rule. But you can if you want to, sweetheart.”

That last phrase didn’t exist in his mother’s vocabulary. Bucky wasn’t fooled.

“Blue it is!” he told her cheerfully.

“Or you could go with a nice beige-”

She always wanted the last word.

“Mom. I’m good. I’ve made up my mind.”

“Have you? Are you sure? Isn’t this a little fast?” 

“Mom. It’s fine. Clint and I have something. You’ve met him! He’s awesome! Funny. Smart. Good with kids.”

“He is?” That gave her pause. “How do you know that?”

“I’ve seen him with his nieces and nephews.”

“I didn’t know that was important to you,” Winifred mused, sounding a little surprised. “You never mentioned it.”

“Mentioned what?”

“Wanting children.”

Oh, and now Bucky had done it. He saw that gleam in his mother’s eye. 

_Grandchildren_. Oh, _fuck_.

“Don’t get any ideas, Ma.”

“What? What ideas? You’re the one talking about marrying a man you just met!”

“Not just talking about it,” Bucky sang. “Anyway, Ma. Might wanna skedaddle. I need to get dressed.”

*

“My friend Emma at work bragged to me once that it only took her and her wife six weeks to plan their wedding. But they had a planner, and Emma had a caterer that she did business with, so she kinda cheated.” 

Becca grinned at Bucky over the small cup of fruit salad that she was demolishing at the lunch buffet. The sun was still bright and high in the sky. Bucky’s wedding was due to happen in six hours. _Six hours._

“You’ve got her beat,” Bucky said.

“Well, technically, you do.”

“Yeah. Man, this is killing me. I don’t know how long I can keep this up.”

“Oh, Bucky. You can’t quit now. Oh, hey, there’s Mr. Wonderful!” They watched Clint heading their way, looking rumpled but fresh, and he smiled brightly when he saw them. He hurried to meet them and got tangled up in a folding chair, which he stumbled to right before he met them, looking slightly betrayed that it impeded his progress.

“Hey! There’s my groom!” Clint practically tackle-hugged Bucky.

“Oof!”

“Oh, God…” Becca cackled, nearly choking on her fruit.

“Can’t keep my hands off this guy. Hey, do you know what you’re wearing yet?”

“I have a blue shirt.”

“That sounds good! I think I like you in blue.”

Bucky bit his lip, unable to force down his chuckle. “Steve said he’ll take pictures. He does that a lot when people get married on the ship.”

“Awwww, nice! Yes!” Clint rubbed his hands together. “I don’t know about you, Bucky, but I’m getting kinda excited! I FaceTimed my mom! She’s sorry she isn’t here for it!” Then Clint paused for a moment. “Hey. You haven’t even met my mom.”

Bucky laughed, shaking his head. “Y’know, I haven’t. We never got around to that, did we?”

“Hey, wait a sec… let me see if we can catch her! Different time zone and all, but I think we can get a hold of her. She’s gonna be tickled pink.” Clint fiddled with his phone, zipping through his contact menu and opening his app.

“Oh, my God. THis is really happening. Bucky’s meeting the parents.” Becca popped a grape into her mouth. “Wow,” she muttered around it. “This is classic.”

“Hey, she can meet you, too! My baby sister-in-law! I always wanted a sister!”

“You have a brother, right? Barney?” Bucky mentioned.

“Yeah, but he doesn’t count. He’s a lugnut. I’d rather have a sister.”

Becca beamed despite herself. “I don’t mind having another brother either, buddy boy.”

“Quit kissing up to my fiance,” Bucky told her.

Becca licked her finger and promptly gave Bucky a wet willie in his ear, and he yelped, smacking her hands away. “GAH! DON’T! C’mon, Beck!”

“You had it coming!”

Clint just grinned as his phone rang, a low, trilling sound that was a little like bird song. Within moments, the screen flashed, and Clint sidled up to Bucky, shoving his seat up close so that they leaned in to each other, shoulder to shoulder. Bucky liked the scent of Clint’s cologne and mouthwash. Clint held up the phone so that they could both fit into the frame, and Clint’s mother grinned at them both. She was blonde and had blue eyes like his, and his same smile that made them crinkle. 

“Hey, baby boy! Aren’t you enjoying your vacation?”

“Course I am. I’m with this good looking fella, here.”

“Hi,” Bucky told her, waving.

“Oh, my God. You didn’t tell me you knew any Hugo Boss models,” Clint’s mom told them, laughing. “Oh, my God. Look at _you_!!!”

Bucky giggled. 

“Oh, Clint, he’s so cute!”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“No. Clint says you have to call me Mom now,” she teased. Becca was grinning and nodding across the way as she listened in. “I heard that you two are playing a joke on your mom, young man.”

“Yeah. We kind of are,” he admitted. “Part of me feels bad, but she’s gonna laugh about this eventually.”

“That’s so twisted,” she told him. 

Clint nodded, chuckling. “Hey. We’re keeping ourselves entertained.”

“Where’s Wade?” she asked.

“Trying to get himself a date for our fake wedding,” Clint told her.

“Oh, well, at least he isn’t moping. Always a groomsman, never a groom,” she tsked.

Bucky cackled, earning himself Clint’s elbow in his side and the way he scrunched his nose when he laughed.

“So, I really get to call you Mom?”

“That’s fine. Or call me Edith. That works, too.”

“Hey, say hi to Becca, too! C’mere, kid sister!” Becca shimmied over, bringing her seat, and she leaned over to stare down into the phone screen.

“Awwww, she’s cute!” Edith cooed.

“Clint, can we keep her?” Becca asked.

“Hey, why not? We’ve got… oh, what? Four days left?”

That made Bucky’s smile falter for a moment.

Well, crap.

That. That didn’t leave them much time at all. Did it.

“You two look good together. Bookmark the whole getting married idea in case you ever want to make a go of it,” Edith suggested. “Hey, boys? I have to go change out my laundry load, and I’m late for a nail appointment.”

“That’s fine, Ma,” Clint assured her. 

“Okay.” She blew them a kiss. “MMmm-muah! Have fun at your wedding. Wish I was there.”

“I do too, Ma,” Clint told her. 

“Me, too,” Bucky chimed in.

“Me, three!” Becca called out.

“Okay. Have fun. Gotta go.”

“Bye, Ma. Love you.”

They rang off, and Clint sighed. “Man. I wish I had some of my cousins or my crazy aunt Lucille here to see this”

“Maybe you can have Wade FaceTime them during the ceremony,” Becca suggested. “I can, too, if you want?”

Clint beamed. “Okay. You’re the most awesome sister ever.”

“Did you have any doubt?”

 

*

“Getting cold feet yet?”

That came from George as Bucky combed his hair.

“Nope,” he murmured to his reflection as he combed gel through his damp locks with his fingers. He pulled it back into a neat bun, almost wishing he had worn it down instead, but he felt more put-together when he pulled it back. Bucky secretly hoped Clint liked it, too.

“Still feeling good about this, son?”

“Yeah, I’m feeling pretty good.” Bucky checked the tuck of his shirt, and his dad automatically straightened it out in the back. “Thanks.”

“Sure. Well, you’re looking pretty sharp. I always thought that when you got married, we’d have a lot more fuss.”

“Sometimes, you don’t need a lot of fuss. The seating area looks nice. Have you seen the deck yet?”

The crew decorated the seating area and tables with turquoise tablecloths and fancy cloth napkins for the occasion and festooned the stage with garlands of silk flowers and streamers. It looked festive. Perfect for a mock wedding. God, Bucky felt like such a heel, but he was bursting with excitement to carry this through til the punchline.

And strangely, he was excited to see Clint, too. Becca forbade them from getting ready together, citing bad luck as a deterrent. Bucky allowed the old wives’ tale when Winifred echoed it. Bucky was looking forward to their vows. They wrote their own, with help from Wade and a couple of mai tais. 

“This guy has been known to ad lib,” Wade warned Bucky. “He might begin to recite lines from ‘Young Frankenstein’ if you let him get away with it.”

“Might not,” Clint told him. “From Blazing Saddles, buddy. Try to keep up.”

“Anuzzer schnitzengruben?” Becca asked in Madeline Kahn’s trademark whine.

“I’m TIRED,” Clint sang. “Sick and tired of LOVE, I’ve had my fill of LOVE, from BELOW and ABOVE-”

“Oh, God, Bucky. Never mind. He’s not marrying you. He’s marrying me.”

Clint snorted. “God. If you had your brother’s equipment, it’d be a go, babycakes. But you get to be my baby sister-in-law, instead.”

“Hmmmph.”

Bucky waggled his eyebrows at the mention of “equipment.”

Did Clint _blush_?

He yelped, though, when Wade kicked him under the table. “Focus, Barton.”

The vows took shape, and they went to their separate suites. Bucky stopped Clint for a moment and motioned to him to walk him to the railing. “Hey. I know this is getting a little crazy, but thanks for helping me pull this off.”

“Hey. I told you, why not? I’m having fun. My roommate’s having fun. And your sister is a crack-up.” Clint leaned against the rail and bumped shoulders with him. “Still wanna go through with this?”

“Heck, yeah.” Bucky grinned as he watched the clouds roll across the sky. “You only live once, right?”

“Unless you know any necromancers,” Clint pointed out. “And I don’t, so. Anyway. There’s just… one more tiny detail we didn’t discuss.”

“Lay it on me.”

“Are we doing the kiss?”

Bucky huffed. “Shit. I forgot that part. I mean… yeah. RIght? We’re doing it, right? It’s a wedding! A fake wedding, granted, but…”

“Well, no _shit_. I’d be hurt if we skipped that part. I’d feel deprived. And I need to make sure Ma sees that.”

“That’s the only reason why, huh?”

“Well.” Clint smirked at him and rubbed his nape. “Maybe not the _only_ reason, Barnes.”

“Hey,” Bucky asked softly. “Would it be the worst thing you’ve ever done if we practiced?”

“Pal. Trust me. This ain’t the worst thing I’ve ever done by a _longshot_.” Clint turned himself to face him, and he reached for Bucky’s wrist. “Want me to put on some lip balm? Make these babies petal-soft?”

“I bet they already are,” Bucky teased back. “I get the feeling that you prepared for this…”

Clint’s eyes twinkled. Bucky was still smiling as he leaned in and inclined his head, tilting right. Clint hesitated when he realized he was tilting in the same direction and had to re-orient his face. Almost shyly, he brushed his lips over Bucky’s. A tentative, soft caress. 

It wasn’t quite enough.

Bucky reached for Clint, closed his hand around that hard, firm shoulder, and kissed him back, more firmly. That earned him a little “mmmmph” from Clint. Clint’s hand slid down from Bucky’s wrist to curl his fingers around his hand, and he just let the kiss play out. Bucky could tell he enjoyed kissing. His lips were pliant and undemanding. Welcoming. The scent of Clint’s cologne tickled Bucky’s senses and he tasted mint on his tongue, because Clint opened for him, letting him sample him, inviting Bucky in to visit. And to play.

Bucky pulled back reluctantly. Clint’s eyes were dilated and hazy. “Okay,” he breathed. “That was a dress rehearsal. I think that’s a wrap. Unless you want another take?” He glanced down at Bucky’s lips and licked his own. Bucky’s pulse was rapid and he heard his heart pounding in his ears.

“I might need to give it one more go, just in case. We want it to be convincing.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.” Clint’s voice was soft, and he reached for Bucky again, this time touching his jaw. As they kissed again, slow, lingering and hot, Clint’s fingers slid around to Bucky’s nape, clutching at his hair, appreciating its soft richness. Bucky groaned into it, eyes closed, living inside that kiss and hearing the boat’s motor and the rush of the waves lapping against the hull. Breezes ruffled their hair. Ocean spray and sunscreen toyed with their senses, and this felt surreal. 

It felt like it would be over far, far too soon.

“Oh, for crying out loud!” That was Becca. Clint and Bucky jerked apart and glared at her, trying to recover from being wrapped up in each other. “Save that for later! For when I can take pictures!”

“She’s a stinker,” Clint muttered.

“Right? I have to put up with that all the time. Be glad you won’t have to after this.”

That gave both of them pause. After a moment, Clint told him, “Thank goodness for small mercies, huh?”

 

*

The wedding march pumped through the speakers following the DJ’s warm-up of old nineties standards and power ballads. A few people in the audience nervously tittered when he played “My Heart Will Go On.” But once the march began, Becca, Wade, Kate and America lined up and walked down the narrow, makeshift aisle marked off by streamers, and the guests assembled on deck began to clap once Clint and Bucky made their way down the aisle. Winifred couldn’t decide if she and George should walk Bucky down, if Clint had no one to walk him down except Wade, and before she could fret too much over that detail, Becca made up everyone’s minds and savagely walked down with her parents, finding them a place to stand once they reached the captain and first mate, both in formal dress as officiants. Bucky caught Steve’s eye in the third row from the front, sitting next to a tall, handsome Black man with a radiant smile and cute dimples. He nodded in approval and made thumbs-up sign to them. Bucky nodded back, grinning, and then Clint was beside him, reaching for his hand. Their fingers intertwined, and Clint swung their hands back and forth slightly, like he had before, and Bucky fought the urge to laugh outright. His mock fiance - no, mock _husband_ \- was cracking him up. 

He looked so _cute_. He’d slicked his hair with more gel than usual, crossing that line from “well groomed” to “boy band lead singer” and making it work. Clint had shaved. Amusingly, a small Mickey Mouse band-aid adorned his jaw where the razor must have slipped. He wore a blue Hawaiian shirt printed with purple flowers and linen pants. He smelled faintly of coconut and his skin was well tanned from several days on deck and in the pool. His grip felt warm and firm; Bucky only hoped his palm didn’t start sweating and gross him out.

Becca and Wade were FaceTiming it as they promised, tilting their phones so that Edith and Clint’s crazy aunt Lucille could see everything. The sun had set, as the captain had promised, painting the sky in fantastic streaks of cerise and purple. Kate and America looked suspiciously emotional as the ceremony got underway.

“Dearly beloved, and guests of Carnival Cruise Lines. We’ve gathered here today to bear witness to Clint Francis Barton and James Buchanan Barnes’ statement of their love for one another. I’m honored to share their special day with you all today.”

“If anyone has any objections to this union, speak now, or forever hold your peace,” the first mate chimed in.

Winifred… mercifully held her tongue. Becca gave her a warning look. “Mom,” she mouthed, “stop.”

Winifred pinched her lips shut. George breathed out a little sigh.

“A wedding ceremony like this one is definitely a joyous occasion, filled with hopes, dreams and excitement for the wedding couple. We are here today to acknowledge and honor the love that these two share, and to bear witness to their commitment to their new start, together.”

“Marriage is a time-honored tradition, and should never be entered into lightly. James and Clint have made a very serious and important decision in choosing to marry one other today, entering into a sacred covenant as life partners.” 

Bucky heard Clint snerk under his breath. He hid his own smothered laughter with a small cough. _Oh, dear God, forgive us for doing this._ Becca, too, looked like she was about to lose it, but Wade wore a beatific smile and just kept FaceTiming, whispering to Clint’s aunt Lucille, “You getting all this?” Bucky’s stomach began to hurt from trying to hold it in.

“While James and Clint are each responsible for the part they will each play in their union, each of you gathered here today are here because you play an important role in their lives. As their community of support, there may be times that James and Clint will need your wisdom, guidance, and encouragement to work through the inevitable challenges they will face.” At this point, Becca caught Bucky’s eye and rolled hers, earning herself the business end of Wade’s elbow. “I request that all of you encourage them in marriage out of the love you have for them as their friends and family, and do all you can to help them nurture and deepen their union.” Bucky knew Winifred planned to do no such thing, as the most vocal member of his “community.” And somehow… part of him felt a little bereft. Because Clint was _awesome._ Somehow, maybe in a different universe, Clint would be perfect son-in-law material. Instead, he was just Bucky’s partner in crime.

The captain stared at the two of them, taking in their amused looks, and he cocked his brow. Then, he cleared his throat and continued. “The joy and strength you find in your marriage will be a reflection the effort that the two of you put into nurturing this bond. You have the opportunity to go forward from this day to create a faithful, kind and tender bond. We wish for you the wisdom, compassion, and reliability to create a peaceful sanctuary in which you both can grow in love. James and Clint, do you understand and accept this responsibility and do you come here freely to enter into the covenant of marriage?”

Bucky replied “We do.”

Clint said, “Yup!”

Steve was biting his knuckles in the third row while his date facepalmed, but there was no help for it.

The first mate read from a selection of e.e. Cummings poems, a particularly nice touch that Wade, of all people, suggested. 

The captain droned on a little about courtship and the decision to marry and anticipation, while Clint continued to hold (and occasionally, nervously swing it in his light grip). Clint also fidgeted, one of his tells that he felt anxious. Bucky glanced over at him and smiled. He squeezed his hand and let his eyes flit down to Clint’s mouth. 

Clint’s pupils dilated. _Yeah?_ he mouthed.  
Bucky cocked his brow and nibbled the edge of his lip in a gesture that he’d been told on numerous occasions “smolders.” 

“Becca,” Wade whispered. “Tell your brother to behave himself.”

“Psssssshhh…” She gave him an aggrieved look. “If he hasn’t in thirty years, it ain’t gonna happen today, Wilson.”

The first mate cleared his throat and made a silencing gesture. Becca and Wade straightened up.

From the edge of the aisle, Winifred and George wore uncomfortable smiles, standing stiffly, arms linked. 

“After today, James and Clint, things will never be the same. You will be able to say, This is my husband. This is the man I’m going to spend the rest of my days with, because I love him above all others. That’s a privilege.”

They recited their vows, which were unremarkable enough, but both of them choked a little on the “as long as you both shall live.” Just a split second of hesitation. Just a faltering of their expressions. Winifred, thankfully, didn’t catch it. 

“I believe the grooms wanted to share personalized vows to make this occasion feel more special,” the first mate told the gathering. He gestured to Clint. “Proceed.”

Clint took a cleansing breath and turned to Bucky, taking both of his hands. “Hey,” he told him.

“Hey, there.”

“So. About these vows.”

“Can’t wait to hear ‘em, buddy.”

Clint scrunched his nose in a moment of abbreviated levity before he gathered his wits. “So. Bucky. If you marry me, I’ll make you laugh. Every day. Maybe not always on purpose. But I promise you there will never be a dull moment. I think you’ve found that out about me already.” 

Bucky nodded enthusiastically. “I never do things halfway, including being there for the guy I love.”

“I _am_ marrying you. Just for the record.”

“This sounds like a sales pitch,” Wade murmured. Becca elbowed him, this time. “It does,” he whispered.

“Shush, Wade.”

“You won’t have to worry. Well, not about me not bein’ there for you, pal. Maybe about other stuff. I’m kind of a mess. But I’m _your_ mess.”

“Awwwwww,” Bucky cooed. The front four rows of passengers tittered in agreement.

Clint cleared his throat again, letting go of Bucky’s hand long enough to scratch the side of his nose. “Uh. It’s your turn, I think.”

Bucky’s chest shook. He nodded and lifted Clint’s hand to his lips, giving his knuckles a kiss. Clint blushed. “D’awww!”

“Clint.” Bucky took both of his hands and squeezed them. “What we’ve got isn’t conventional, but it’s one for the books. I knew from the moment that I saw you that you were a man who knew how to have a good time, and that you didn’t care who was watching.”

“It’s true! He doesn’t!” Wade told Becca on a loud whisper. America and Kate fought and failed to keep straight faces.

“I promise that whenever I come up with a ridiculous idea, that I’ll always clear it with you first, and that I’ll occasionally give you creative control. I’ll always listen, and I won’t just pretend to be interested so that I can go back to watching the Dodgers game. Or late night porn.” 

“ _BUCKY!_ ”

“Sorry, Ma…” Bucky winced, because maybe that was going overboard. “I vow to be there for you when you need me, and not to let you worry through those bad days alone. Spending time with you always leaves me with great stories, Clint. I can’t wait to make more of them to eventually tell our kids.”

Clint’s intake of breath was sharp, and Bucky caught the quick bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. Clint’s eyes sparked and then went soft. “Damn it, you’re gonna make me cry.”

“I’m going to have so much fun with you, Clint Barton.”

“Did you get all that, Lucille?” Wade asked his phone. “Got it? Good.” He nodded to the captain. “Carry on.”

The captain gave them a brief, long-suffering look.

“May I have the rings, please? Wedding rings are symbolic reminders of the unbroken circle of eternal love. Within the safety and comfort of a true marriage, love given freely has no beginning and no end. Love freely given has no separate giver and receiver. Each of you gives your love to the other, and each of you receives love from the other. May these rings serve to remind you of the freedom and power of your love.”

Wade and Pinterest came through yet again. Clint and Bucky watched Wade fish in his pocket and hand each of them rings woven together out of embroidery floss. Friendship rings. Purple and black for Clint, and red and blue for Bucky.

“Cute!” That was Edith from Becca’s phone.

“James, repeat after me: With this ring, I give you my promise, to honor you, to be faithful to you, and to share my love and life with you, in all ways, forever.” 

As Bucky slid the ring onto Clint’s finger, he noticed another band-aid wrapped around it that impeded his progress. Note to self, Bucky thought, Keep Clint away from sharp objects that aren’t arrows.

“And Clint, repeat after me: With this ring, I give you my promise, to honor you, to be faithful to you, and to share my love and life with you, in all ways, forever.”

“Heck, yeah, I do!” Clint wiggled his eyebrows at Bucky as he gave him the ring. “Looks good on you, Barnes.” His voice was fond. Bucky could swear that he heard Wade sniffle.

“I’m pleased to present to you, Mr. and Mr. James and Clint Barton-Barnes! You may now kiss the groom!”

“They decided on last names?” America murmured to Kate.

“Got me,” she said, shrugging. “Oh, boy…”

Clint was grinning at Bucky, and Bucky saw that look. That Look. The same one from his skydiving and basejumping and ziplining photos. The same one Wade described when Clint challenged him, “Bet you I can eat this whole jar of ghost pepper salsa!” It was charged with mischief and energy and promised chaos and possible property damage.

And Bucky returned it full measure when Clint grabbed him and dipped him backward, knocking him off-balance for a hard, gratuitous kiss. He captured Bucky’s laugh and Bucky held on tight.

And after a moment, he just… went with it. The whole deck broke out into wild applause. Those seconds stretched by, dizzying and euphoric. Bucky’s insides felt like soda bubbles, and the rest of the sounds around him faded away. He was aware of the satiny slickness of Clint’s mouth and how his tongue slipped inside his, stroking and teasing.

This wasn’t church kissing. This was _foreplay_. Bucky suddenly realized that _his parents were watching_ , and he straightened up immediately. Clint looked very, very pleased with himself. Bucky was blushing furiously while Wade and Becca snapped photos.

“Auntie Lucille sends her love,” Wade told them both. “God, you two are a couple of cheeseballs. Okay. That was fun. I need a drink.”

“Race you to the bar,” Becca challenged, and the two of them proceeded to trip each other and shove the other out of the way as they scrambled off the deck and toward the serving area.

“I think we’ve been deserted,” Bucky told Clint, who was shaking the captain’s hand.

“Let’s hurry up and catch up to them before they drink all the margaritas.”

 

Winifred and George stopped them, and Winifred, to Bucky’s surprise, actually stepped forward and folded Clint into her arms. “Well, that was abrupt,” she remarked. “But welcome to the family, Clint.” She still looked flummoxed. “Barton-Barnes, though?”

“Rolls right off the tongue, doesn’t it?” Clint teased. “Well. We can figure that out eventually.”

“You have to sign a marriage certificate,” George reminded them. “Better figure it out quick.”

“I think we’ll be fine, Dad.” Bucky grabbed Clint’s hand and swung it a little, adopting his mock husband’s habit. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”

*

 

Once everyone got a few drinks under their belts, they took pictures. The ship set up a photo booth backdrop and some props, and they went to town, taking tons of shots of the wedding party. Bucky and Clint took a few “romantic” poses straight off Pinterest that actually ended up looking better than either of them expected.

“They actually look cute together,” America remarked to Becca.

“Right?” She sipped her margarita, licking indelicately at the salt around the rim. “I’m actually on board for these two to date, if they ever fess up to Mom and Dad that they didn’t get married.”

“Looked and sounded kinda legit to me,” Kate told her. “Seriously. That was very wedding-y.”

“It was a joke!” Becca cried, but she hushed herself when she noticed her parents sitting ten feet away. “Honestly, I’m afraid that they’ll kille Bucky and me both for pulling this.”

“Life’s short.”

“Yeah, well, haha, it’s about to get shorter.”

But overall, they enjoyed dinner. Winifred and George made small talk with Wade; Winifred pulled Bucky aside and asked him, “Wade said that Clint volunteers at an animal shelter and walks the dogs. Did you know that?”

“I do now.”

“How much _do_ you know about your husband, Bucky, after doing this in the blink of an eye?”

“Ma. Calm down. Everything’s fine.”

Winifred gave him an aggrieved sigh, shrugged, threw up her hands, turned on her feel and stalked off.

“Okay. Congratulations, Bucky. You’ve just started your mother’s nervous breakdown.” Becca leaned against him, still sipping her drink. He took it from her and downed half of it in one gulp before handing it back.

“We saw it coming as soon as I told her I was going on sabbatical out of the country for a year. This is a drop in the bucket, Becks.”

Clint eventually made him sit down for dinner, and they drank and laughed while Clint told them stories about his trips and his job. And Bucky was rapt and a little drunk, and he hung on his every word. The top two buttons of Clint’s shirt were undone, his voice was louder than it had been at the beginning of the night, and the sunset gave way to a star-speckled, cobalt blue sky. Clint looked exhausted but happy. Bucky felt the same.

But he could stand to stretch his legs. “I’m gonna take a walk and get a little more air.”

“Mind if I come with?”

“I’d be insulted if you didn’t, Mr. Barton-Barnes.”

Clint snickered, almost choking on his beer. They took their bottles and headed above deck, side-stepping the other guest they found in their path, until they found a quiet stretch of railing. The spray from the water felt cool on their cheeks and bare arms when the breeze dusted them with it.

“Man, I’m bushed. Who knew having a wedding was this hard?”

“Was it?” Bucky challenged.

“Nah.” Clint grinned again before taking another drag of his beer. “But this was a long day. I can honestly say I did it all on this vacation. Pretend skydiving. Wave pool. Shuffleboard. Limbo dancing. And marrying a guy that I just met in front of his parents just to get their goat.”

Bucky nodded as he gulped his own drink. Clint watched him working the liquid down his throat, admiring the cords of muscle in his neck.

Clint turned to Bucky, leaning against the deck railing and dangling a beer bottle from his fingertips. “So. That was fun. Now what?”

“I dunno. Now what, what?”

“Eh. I just…” Clint’s eyes crinkled and he looked away, chuckling under his breath.

That teased a grin out of Bucky, and he bit his lip. “What?”

“Just guess I was wondering if we’d get a honeymoon out of this, is all.”

Bucky paused. His smile was crooked and hooded. “What kind of things were you thinking of to do on our honeymoon?”

“Eh. The usual things. Like grabbing the room keys from Wade and hanging the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign up on the door for a few hours so I can make you speak in tongues.” Clint’s tone was casual. He was staring out at the ocean when he spoke, but there was a hint of heat in the way he raised the bottle to his lips again, making Bucky focus on his mouth.

“Do a couple of fake-married guys get to have a real honeymoon?”

“It’s not written in the rules that they _can’t_.”


	4. Rockin’, Baby, Til the Cops Come Knockin’

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey. What’re you doin’?” Clint squinted up at Bucky in a way that was adorable and distracting while Bucky continued to rummage through the piles of discarded clothing on the floor.
> 
> “Trying to find my underwear.”
> 
> “Underpants are overrated. And so’s bein’ awake before noon. C’mon, babe.” Clint tossed aside the edge of the sheet, exposing his bare side and patting the mattress. “Come back to bed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you even annul a fake marriage?
> 
> Do you even _want_ to?

Bucky and Clint arrived without discussion at the agreement that it’d look weird if they cut out of their own reception too early. They spent a surreal two hours mingling and mugging for photographs with Wade, Becca, America, Kate, Steve and Sam, while Winifred and George looked on in confused resignation. Bucky was still running on the adrenaline of getting married in front of a boatload of strangers.

The first mate approached them as Bucky was ladling fruit salad onto his plate. “I know you want to enjoy your reception and relax, now that the excitement is over, but set aside a time to stop by to sign the paperwork in the morning.”

“Huh?”

“The marriage certificates. Your best man and maid of honor can sign as witnesses. We just need to document that a wedding took place, just like you would if it happened in a church.”

“Shit,” Bucky muttered. “Right. Um, one sec.” Bucky waved Clint over, who was trying to see how many cheese cubes he could spear with one cocktail toothpick. “Clint? Honey?” The pet name felt silly but not wrong. Clint jerked his head toward the sound of his voice, brows flying up right before he gave Bucky a sunny grin.

“Hey, babycakes.” _Good Lord._.

“We have to set aside a time tomorrow to sign some paperwork,” Bucky told him. “Marriage certificates.”

“Oh. Right. Right, right. Okay. So, howsabout noonish?”

Because Clint already had a fruity mixed drink on the table, just shy of his hip. Bucky knew that wouldn’t be the last of their indiscretions for the rest of the night.

“Noonish sounds fine,” the first mate confirmed. “Okay. I’ll get back to you then. Captain’s office at noon. Bring along picture ID.”

“Can’t remember the last time I got carded for anything,” Clint remarked as the first mate left them and Bucky drew close, bumping up against him. “Hey, honey.”

“Hey, babycakes. How’s the kebab?”

“Not half bad. Hey. C’mere.”

“What? Why?” Bucky’s brows drew together above his curious smile.

“Ah, just c’mere.” Clint looped his arm around Bucky’s waist. “Let me kiss the groom.”

Bucky gamely leaned in and gave him a teasing kiss, yelping a little when Clint caught his lip between his teeth. “Easy!” Bucky urged. “People are watching. Save me a little something for the ‘honeymoon.’”

“Aw, where’s the fun in that?”

“We’ll get to the fun,” Bucky promised. His eyes were dark with the promise of a closed, locked door and the shades pulled.

“I’m holding you to that, Barnes.” Clint hip-checked him and moved on with his drink and plate to where Steve and Sam were sitting and bickering over a plate of ribs. Excitement warmed Bucky’s core, and he smiled to himself as he stopped by his parents’ table.

Winifred looked up at him with a weak, tight smile. “There’s the blushing groom,” she told him dryly as he leaned down and kissed her cheek.

“You’ll like him. I promise,” Bucky insisted, just for good measure. 

“He seems nice. I just wish you had given this a little more thought and time,” she argued. “I just want you to make good decisions. How are you going to manage once you get back to the states? What are you going to do in the meantime?”

“We’ll figure it out, Ma! There’s such a thing as video conferencing, you know. And Clint travels a lot with his job. We’ll figure it out!” Well. Clint traveled occasionally for leisure, but his parents didn’t need to know that. Not yet. Australia had been one of Clint’s bucket list items, too. Bucky wondered if they could drag this out a little once they got off of the ship and reconnect.

“This just seems so impractical,” Winifred tutted. “You won’t have the time to get to know each other, and you’re just starting out! Your father and I dated for a long time before we finally said our vows!”

“Six months isn’t that long of a time, dear,” George offered. His smile was bland, but Bucky saw that beleaguered look in his eyes. Winifred Barnes was just getting warmed up. “Maybe it just _seemed_ long…”

“George.” Her voice carried the weight of a smack upside the head.

“It’s his life,” George told her, nonplussed. “He can mess it up however he likes.”

“Gee, Pop. Thanks.”

“Well, you can. We had nothing to do with this. You’re the conductor of this train, son. If it runs off the rails, well. You’re the one left with the wreck.” George held up his beer bottle. “Cheers, son.”

Bucky stretched across the table to clink his glass with his dad’s. “You should write Hallmark cards, Pop.”

“I’ve got a million of ‘em.”

Bucky leisurely snacked and drank, until Clint pulled him away, motioning for a passing server to take Bucky’s plate. “Hey. I haven’t had the chance to dance with my hubs.”

Winifred gave them the same tight smile and a dismissive wave.

“Have fun!” George called after them.

“I don’t dance!” Bucky mock-complained as Clint pulled him toward the ship’s disco.

“Sure you do. C’mon, babe. Show me your stuff.”

Bucky saw the gleam of alcohol in his eyes and the mischief in his smile through a lust-fueled lens. God, Clint was hot. And ridiculous. They stumbled through the crowd, waving to the guests who had witnessed their performance earlier and who were calling out well wishes and congratulations.

“How is this my life right now?” Bucky muttered as they made their way inside.

“Want another drink?”

“Nah. I’m good.”

“You’re gonna make me behave myself, aren’t you?” Clint’s shoulders slumped a little at this possibility.

“Hell, no. I just wanna be sober enough for later.”

That brought Clint’s grin back, devilish and contagious. “Well. When you put it _that_ way.” 

Clint dragged Bucky to the bar, arm around his waist again, which was becoming a familiar repose for the two of them, and welcome. Clint ordered some tequila, and Bucky decided one shot wouldn’t hurt. 

“You said you were gonna behave,” Clint accused.

“After this.”

“Famous last words,” Clint chuckled as the bartender slid over the two shots and a small plate with cut limes and a salt shaker. Clint went first, licking the back of his hand and dashing salt generously on his skin, but before he could lick it, Bucky grabbed his hand and licked it off, swirling the tip of his tongue over his knuckles to catch it all. The bartender raised her brows as she moved on to the next customer, and Clint’s eyes darkened with want. “Okay. You just did that.”

“What? I needed some salt for my shot.”

Clint’s eyes crinkled, and he shook an accusing finger at Bucky before he re-salted his hand. He lapped up the crystals and waited for Bucky to lift his glass, clinking his against it. “Cheers, babe.”

“Down the hatch.” They tossed back the shots, both grimacing at their sharpness before they bit down deep into the lime wedges. Clint shook his head. 

“Man, that rang my chimes. C’mon. Let’s shake a tailfeather.” The bar was already filling up, disco ball slowly spinning over the dance floor, and this time, mercifully, there was a DJ instead of the less than impressive band from the night before. And suddenly, Bucky found himself flung into a mass of sweating bodies garbed in scanty, touristy, bright colors. 

“I don’t dance!” Bucky called to him over the music, a loud, pumping tempo.

“Sorry, can’t hear you!” Clint called back, and Bucky heard his low snicker as he pulled him close. Bucky felt off-balance and heavy on his feet, but Clint guided him into it, hands back on his waist, hips moving to the pounding bass. “C’mon! That’s not so bad, is it?”

“God, help me…”

Clint laughed again and leaned in, murmuring into his ear, “I like watching you work it.”

A slow smile curled over his lips. Well. Since he put it _that_ way.

He followed Clint’s lead, catching his footwork and the way he moved. Despite his earlier performance the night they met, Clint could actually dance when he put some effort into it. They were mindless of the other couples around them. The light display from the fixtures around the bar caught the blond of Clint’s hair and the sweat slicking his skin, reflected in those bright blue eyes like supernovas. Clint’s shoulder felt rock-hard beneath Bucky’s grip, and his body radiated heat, more intense with so many people crowded around them, but they kept dancing. Clint pulled out a few ballroom moves and a shimmy that left Bucky equal parts amused, impressed, and turned on.

They didn’t come anywhere close to closing the bar. The last song they lingered there for was a slow one, and Bucky threw shyness aside and kissed him, arms wound around Clint’s neck. It was messy and languid, and Bucky was thankful that his sister and Wade weren’t taking pictures of the two of them right now. Clint tasted salty and spicy, and he was nipping at Bucky’s lips again. Arousal swam through Bucky’s veins. 

“Can we?” Clint muttered.

“Can we…?”

“I wanna take you back to my suite. For that honeymoon I promised you.”

“I kinda promised you, too,” Bucky amended. His eyes flicked down to Clint’s body. He was straining against the fabric of his slacks. He nodded, jerking his head toward the direction of the exit, and Clint dragged him just as quickly out of the bar as he’d dragged him in. Except this time, they were practically moving at a _sprint_.

“Oh, wow.” Steve elbowed Sam sharply. “I see questionable choices about to happen.”

“Oh, there they go,” Sam agreed. He huffed a laugh and threw an arm around Steve’s shoulders, lightly kneading his neck. “Guess we could expect that.”

“Expect it?” Wade let out a ragged sigh. “I called it as soon as they started talking in the bar. I love my roommate. He’s a stand-up guy, but he’s about as subtle as a brick to the head.” He took a sip of his wine cooler. “It’s one of his finer points.”

“You’re okay with this?” Becca asked.  
“Sure. Sure I am. Because life’s short. Even if he regrets any of this a week, or a month from now, he was able to have this, y’know? He’s allowed.”

“What’s there to regret? My brother’s done worse things, believe me. And I really like Clint. I think Bucky really likes him, too. No one else has ever gotten my brother to dance.”

“That says a lot,” Sam chimed in.

“Oh, yeah, it does,” Steve agreed. “Sam talked me onto the floor for the chicken dance at his sister’s wedding. If there was ever any question of how much I care for this man, that squashed it completely.” 

Sam chuckled and gave him a little shake, making Steve give Sam’s knee a little shove in response. The gaze they shared was affectionate and fond. Becca felt irritated that she was the only one on her trip who was unattached. Steve turned to Becca and asked the obvious question.

“What are they even planning to do after this? Bucky teaches art history. What does Clint do again?”

“Owns a shooting range,” Wade supplied. “He’s not moving any time soon.”

“And my brother is staying in Australia for a year,” Becca told him. “He’s taking this cruise with me and our parents, but he flies back out here in two weeks on his own. My mom’s still freaking out about it.”

“Two weeks, huh?” Wade mentioned. He sighed and clapped his hands together. “Well, okay. That gives us something to work with.”

“What are we working with, now?”

“Getting these two crazy kids together. Or at least convincing them that they aren’t through.”

“Seriously?” Becca almost choked on her drink. “They’re going to be long distance! This was just a joke!” Then she recanted. “Right?”

“Well. Yes, and no.”

“Wait…”

“I hate to be the one to bring the ants to this picnic,” Wade told them, “but my roommate’s totally gone on your brother.”

*

Their entry into the suite was a mad jumble of false starts with Clint’s key and a jerk of the knob, and they stumbled inside. Clint was on Bucky in seconds, pressing him back against the door and kissing him with heat, tugging at his clothes. Buck managed to lock the door, groaning into Clint’s mouth, tongues dueling, hands groping and popping shirt buttons.

“Wanted to do this since this morning,” Clint rasped. “You smell good…”

“I bathed,” Bucky joked. “Thought you might like that.”

“Aww. M’touched, baby.” Clint hand cupped Bucky’s nape and Bucky let himself drown in him, in his scent and the faint remainder of tequila on his tongue, in the press of Clint’s hardness against him when he nudged Bucky’s thighs apart with his knee and ground on him. Bucky undid the top two buttons of Clint’s shirt and then jerked the shirttails from his waistband, interrupting their kiss long enough to tug the whole thing up over his head. “Okay. That works. I don’t like buttons, either.”

“Fuck, you’re hot,” Bucky muttered. Clint never missed arm day at the gym. Or ab day. Or chest day. Clint grinned at him, and the expression was almost feral.

“Like this?”

“Yeah, I like it.”

Clint backed off and undid his own belt buckle, snap and zipper, and he let his pants drop, kicking them off with his shoes. He stood before Bucky in nothing but his socks.

“You were commando at our wedding?” Bucky muttered. He snickered and shook his head. Clint was already erect and waving hello. 

“I might have had plans for tonight,” Clint confessed. “You gonna let me be naked all by my lonesome?”

“Hell, no.”

Bucky whipped his own shirt off and pulled Clint close, swallowing his low chuckle. Clint’s narrow hips were firm in Bucky’s grip and his neck beneath his lips was hot and smooth, flavored with the salt in his sweat. Clint made an indecent sound as Bucky mapped out his pulse and the muscles and veins in his throat. Clint’s fingers found their way into Bucky’s hair and worked it free from its messy ponytail. It tumbled down around his face, tendrils working their way into the corners of Bucky’s mouth, but he mouthing and nipping at Clint’s tender, bare flesh. Clint batted Bucky’s hand away from his waistband and undid his button and zipper himself, scraping down his boxers greedily, needing to see all of him. Bucky’s dick bobbed free of the stifling elastic waistband and slapped itself into Clint’s questing palm.

“That’s better,” Clint murmured. “ _Much_ better, baby.”

“Mm-hm,” Bucky agreed as he lapped spirals around Clint’s collarbones, managing to step out of the puddle of his pants. His hands roamed over Clint’s body as he kissed his way south, pausing at the stiffened peaks of his nipples, breathing over one and drawing it into his mouth.

“ _Fuck…_ ” Clint’s breath punched itself out of his chest. He stumbled back against the door this time, clutching at Bucky’s head to keep him there. “You’re good at that.” Bucky hummed his thanks into his chest, letting the vibrations thrum through that tiny peak. Clint’s knees faltered and he clung to Bucky.

“I bought condoms,” Clint confessed. “Practically cleaned out Steve’s supply in the gift shop.”

“Good boy,” Bucky murmured around the other nipple. “Lube?”

“Never leave home without it.”

Bucky nipped and licked a path down Clint’s chest, counting his ribs with his mouth. He sank to his knees and listened to Clint’s breathing grow choppy above him, relishing the way it caught when he circled his navel with his tongue. Clint had an inny. It was as perfect as everything else about him. The head of Clint’s cock bumped against Bucky’s chin, craving the same attention, but Bucky lingered where he was, taking his time. Clint huffed a breathless laugh when Bucky kissed his stomach and down the dents of his groin. His face went slack when Bucky ringed his swollen dick in his fist and lapped at the head. “I was gonna do this to you first,” Clint accused.

Bucky shrugged, gazing up at him as he drew him inside his hot mouth, and he made a sound of apology that blew Clint’s mind.

“Okay. _Okay._ Oh, my God… that’s fine. You… you go first, sweetheart.” Clint was rocking back on his heels, head knocked back against the door, occasionally raising up on his toes as his body tried to push itself more deeply into that liquid heat. His entire body was taut with need, muscles locked and fingers tugging on that wonderful, thick, soft hair. Bucky’s hands roamed over him, sliding over those glorious tapered thighs. He teased Clint’s balls with his fingers, stroking them until they drew up into a tight, straining ball. Clint was panting and groaning out Bucky’s name and a few other words he could barely make out. He caught it in bits and snatches above the sound of his own shallow breathing and lapping tongue:

“S’good… so good… Mother of God…”

“That thing you’re doing’s gotta be illegal in at least ten states…”

“Bucky…”

“BUCKY…”

“I do. Oh, my God, I do. I do. Any time you want, I do…”

Bucky paused a moment. That sounded almost like _vows_.

“You okay?” he asked, checking in. Clint’s breathing was labored, chest rising and falling sharply.

“No. I need you.” He pulled Bucky to his feet and kissed him hard, and the two of them stumbled over to the bed. It looked like it had been made earlier with fresh sheets, but there was still an indent in the pillow and slight rumpling of the comforter, like Clint had taken a brief nap to refresh himself before the festivities. They tumbled down to the mattress, and Bucky felt himself rolled to his back, chuckling when Clint plundered his mouth, returning all the favors from against the door. Feeling Clint’s body settled over him felt like coming home. Clint was slowly grinding down against him, and Bucky felt his cock drooling a little between them, leaking onto his stomach. The slide of skin against skin felt decadent in the air conditioned room, atop the cool cotton sheets. Clint smoothed Bucky’s hair back from his sweaty face and stared down into his eyes. 

“You’re beautiful,” he told him.

Bucky’s lips twisted into a self-deprecating grin, and he shook his head.

“You are!” Clint insisted.

“Just feels weird hearin’ you say it.”

“Why? S’true. Look at you.” Clint kissed him and ground himself against him again, earning himself a groan of pleasure. Bucky’s body was alive with the sensation of their legs tangled together and their cocks sliding and buffeting, slick with the sweat from their bodies. “I like looking at you, Bucky.”

“Look all you want, sweet cheeks.” Bucky borrowed from Clint’s supply of mock pet names, but the endearment didn’t feel wrong. He slid his hands down Clint’s strong, hard back, down to his ass, giving it a squeeze. Clint flexed that muscle, making it pop in his grip, before he dipped his head and kissed Bucky’s smile.

“Can I? Can I top you?”

“I’d be sad if you didn’t.”

“Awwww, no. No, no. No sad Bucky. Can’t allow that on our honeymoon.” Clint shook his head, playfully nuzzling Bucky’s nose with his. “I don’t want you to be sad. I’ll do whatever you want to make you happy. Y’know that, right?”

“God, you’re goofy…”

“What? I will.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Bucky’s arms tightened around him as he licked into Clint’s mouth, and the time for talking was over. Minutes later, he reluctantly released him while Clint dug in his duffel for the bottle of Astroglide and a string of condom wrappers. “S’been a long time,” Bucky warned him. “Don’t rush.”

“I ain’t planning to rush with you,” Clint assured him. “I’m planning to be here a while with you.” There was a gravity in Clint’s voice, sitting right beside reassurance, and the sound of it made warmth curl its way through Bucky’s insides. Bucky let his thighs sag open to give Clint access. The bottle clicked as Clint flipped open the purple cap, followed by a faint squirt, and Clint filled Bucky’s vision again. He kissed him with slow, sweet intensity as he teased his entrance with his blunt, slick finger. Bucky hummed in invitation, letting Clint settle himself along his body and coax him open. He exhaled a sharp breath at the initial breach and the faint stretch and burn. He was tight and neglected, and he felt Clint pause.

“I’ll take it easy,” he promised.

“I’m okay. I’m good. It’s good, baby. Don’t stop.”

“I’m still not gonna rush. God, you feel sweet, Bucky…” Bucky thrust up into Clint’s careful pressure, and Clint rewarded him with a slight twist of his hand. Bucky shuddered at the sensation, making an urgent noise. “Make that sound again.” Clint moved his hand again in another deft thrust to help him along. There was another uneven, breathy sound that made a smile spread over Clint’s face. “That’s nice. Like hearing you, Buck.”

Long, slow, spiraling thrusts pried Bucky farther away from sanity. His head tipped back into the pillows, hair becoming a tousled, dark cloud. His skin was flushed and damp, and Clint loomed over him, watching him. “Look at you,” he grated out. “Want more?”

Bucky nodded, desperate to take more of him and to have Clint pulsing inside him. “Please. Give it to me.” Bucky was regretting his tightness and long dry spell, but Clint was skilled and listened to his body and its stubborn clamp around his finger, being just as stubborn when he eased the second one inside. 

“Tell me if it’s too much.”

“S’not. It’s not. Please, baby…”

Clint shifted, easing back then moving between Bucky’s thighs. He lapped at his belly, following the dark, slim happy trail down to his sex. He mouthed at the plump head while his fingers continued their slick thrusts. Clint’s fingers brushed over Bucky’s sweet spot, and Bucky’s eyes snapped open. Oh, there it was. Yes, right there. And again. Clint sighed at the tasted of him as he kept teasing him, urging Bucky to let him in. This time, Bucky’s hand raked through Clint’s short hair, and his heel dragged over Clint’s back. His body was straining with need, and Clint was slowly, smoothly bobbing his head over him, making the edges of the room gray out. Bucky could still heard the sounds of faint music carrying to them and the sounds of the waves lapping at the ship’s hull, Clint’s tongue pulling at him in hungry strokes, and the pounding of his pulse in his ears. Bucky’s breathing was ragged, but he was willing to trade oxygen for more of what Clint was doing to his ass.

Before he could find the words to voice this, Clint slipped a third finger inside, and Bucky keened at the stretch and cramp. His digits felt crowded inside him, sheathed in that tight, hot column. Bucky pulsed around him, thrusting back at Clint with need. Clint’s mouth slipped off of him, and Bucky felt bereft as he left him.

“Too much?”

“ _No._ ” Bucky’s voice was hoarse and desperate. “Not enough. Oh, God, Clint. Please. _Please_.”

“Oh, fuck. You sound ready. Okay. It’s okay.” Clint watched Bucky feel around the mattress for the strip of condoms, quickly ripping one off and tearing it open. He leaned up from the pillows, while Clint continued to finger him, keeping him warm. “You want it? Huh? You want me?”

“Hell, yes.”

“Suit me up, then.”

“C’mere.” Bucky’s voice was dark and rich with lust. He sat up and reached for Clint, grasping his hips. He kissed Clint’s sternum and teased his nipples briefly again. He tugged the slick little circle out of the packet and grasped Clint’s cock, slowly rolling it down his throbbing length. He teased it with a kiss, nipping at Clint’s belly just to make it jump.

“You’re killing me, Buck.”

Bucky fell back onto his back, grinning up at him as Clint scrambled between his thighs again, reaching for his hips. He knelt and leaned in, and Bucky felt him, damp, hot, and pressing against him, and Clint entered in short, smooth strokes. Clint’s face changed, so many emotions flickering over his features at the feel of Bucky wrapped him, snug as a glove. Clint’s grip on his hips was almost bruising, and Bucky felt full and split open. Seeing Clint stare down into his eyes like that was almost too much. Clint rolled his hips, a smooth, perfect ripple, and he bottomed out, fully sheathed inside Bucky. Bucky felt his flesh throbbing and pulsing, hot, smooth and thick, and he groaned at the press of Clint’s cock brushing up against his prostate. 

“Feel so sweet, Bucky.”

“Move,” Bucky demanded. “M’gonna need you to move, Barton.”

So, Clint moved.

As Clint had promised on the deck, he made Bucky _speak in tongues._ The mattress creaked beneath them, and the headboard was telling the wall who was boss as Clint rocked into him. Bucky’s heels dug into Clint’s back. He felt the rhythmic slap of Clint’s balls against his ass and saw the faint furrow of Clint’s brows. His skin glistened with sweat, and the room began to smell like sex. Bucky felt himself leaking between them. He twisted the pillow in his fists where it was smashed beneath his head. He was rasping out Clint’s name, and Clint was corkscrewing his hips, working Bucky into the mattress. 

“Gonna take good care of you, Bucky. Look at you, you’re so pretty when you’re about to come…”

“ _Clint_...”

“I’ll be good to you.”

There was that gravity in his voice. So much desperation and insistence. Clint didn’t need to convince Bucky, honestly. The sex spoke for itself. But he told him again, “I’ll be so good to you, Bucky.”

“Clint… Clint! GOD, Clint!” 

Clint reached down and stroked Bucky, long, smooth tugs of his aching flesh, and within minutes, he was overflowing over Clint’s fist. Bucky saw shocks of white beneath his eyelids, and the whole room turned itself inside-out. His hips jerked up and shuddered as Clint worked him through it.

“I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

Bucky collapsed back into the pillows, limp and completely spent. His limbs felt like jelly, and he let out a wounded noise when Clint gently withdrew. Bucky felt the mattress bounce a little beneath him as Clint hopped up off the bed - how was he even able to walk??? - and trotted to the bathroom. Bucky heard the snap of the condom and the low stream of Clint relieving himself. Then Bucky heard dashing splashes in the sink, before Clint slapped off the light and returned to the bed with a warm, damp cloth. He swabbed Bucky’s stomach and groin, mopping away the sticky dampness, and he bent down and kissed him. Bucky’s lips pushed weakly back at him, and he sighed in contentment. 

“You’ve got me,” Bucky murmured. “I’m. All. Yours.”

Clint huffed. “You’re pickled. We both are.”

“M’feeling good, though.”

“Yeah.” Clint gave him a thoughtful look. Bucky grinned blearily up at him. “I can see that, babe.”

Clint returned to the bathroom to discard the cloth, and moments later, he drew the sheet back and coaxed Bucky underneath it. Bucky automatically curled around Clint’s side. He felt like he was floating on a cloud. Clint’s heart was still pounding beneath his cheek, and Clint’s fingers were combing themselves through his hair. Bucky hummed in contentment. Clint enjoyed touch. Casual caresses. Drawing little patterns over Bucky’s skin. Tracing his hairline with kisses. Clint’s leg was trapped between Bucky’s thighs, and his arm around Clint’s waist was possessive.

“Clint?”

“Yeah?” Clint’s voice was groggy.

“Thank you.”

“Okay. You’re welcome.”

“Mean it. For everything. I’m not gonna forget any of this. Just want you to know that.”

Clint’s laughter was low and rumbled through his chest beneath Bucky’s cheek. “I’m gonna be telling my grandkids about this, if I ever end up with any.”

He felt Bucky’s smile crack against his skin. “You might. You never know. You looking forward to kids?”

“I enjoy ‘em. I don’t know how that’s gonna pan out, but I want some one day.” He paused for a moment. “Is that a turn-off for you?”

“No! Heck, no. I like kids. I’m not ruling them out. My mom sure thinks it’s time for me to give her some grandkids. I can’t pull them out of my magic hat.”

“Doesn’t work that way, pal.” Clint hugged him, and there were those lips again, soft and warm, floating over Bucky’s skin. 

“Gotta get married for real, I guess.” Bucky yawned and gave Clint’s chest a fond pat. The room was humid with the scent of sex, but the air conditioner kicked on again, and the stale air slowly drifted out through the vents. 

Clint lingered awake after Bucky drifted off. Pondering. Musing.

And feeling so damned confused.

*

Bucky’s decisions from the night before caught up to him as he woke. His mouth tasted like rubber tires again, and salt, this time. _Wow._ The shades were thankfully pulled, and when he lifted his head, he felt his cheek peel its way free of warm, sweaty skin.

_Clint._

Oh, _shit_.

He was lightly snoring, sprawled out and bare, hair a tousled, blond wreck. Bucky stared down at him, taking silent inventory. Yes, that was the same body that Bucky had enjoyed and explored at length…  
He did a quick count.

His eyes flitted to the bedside table and found _three_ empty condom wrappers.

Bucky vaguely remembered that night in bits and snatches. Clint waking him up and rolling him over for round two. Then waking again at four AM for a cuddle session that turned into more mattress screaming. Bucky was legitimately sore and well-used, but it was morning, and they needed to face the music.

And his parents. And Wade and Becca. And the breakfast buffet of strangers who watched them tie the knot the night before.

Clint’s throat bore a raspberry red hickey, marring its pristine perfection. _Oh, shit._ It was too hot for a turtleneck. Bucky hoped Clint wouldn’t kill him.

Then again… Clint was a man who air-guitared. A little love bite - okay, a BIG love bite - wouldn’t worry him too much. 

But in the meantime, they needed to get their act together and their story straight. Bucky eased himself free, and Clint’s breathing hitched for a moment before he rolled over, automatically occupying the space Bucky vacated. Bucky found his pants by the door, with his shoes half-stuffed into the cuffs.

“Hey. What’re you doin’?” Clint squinted up at Bucky in a way that was adorable and distracting while Bucky continued to rummage through the piles of discarded clothing on the floor.

“Trying to find my underwear.”

“Underpants are overrated. And so’s bein’ awake before noon. C’mon, babe.” Clint tossed aside the edge of the sheet, exposing his bare side and patting the mattress. “Come back to bed.”

“We’ve gotta face the day, Barton. Wakey, wakey.”

“Eggs and bakey,” Clint sing-songed back. “C’mon. I mean it. Don’t make me sleep in alone. It’s not even ten yet.”

Bucky’s eyes bulged, and he chanced a look at the digital clock. “Fuck. My parents are early risers.”

“Buck. Buddy.” Clint huffed and shook his head. “I think you’ll be all right. I’m more worried about wherever my roomie ended up that he never came home last night.”

That thought hit Bucky sharply, making him pull up short. “Shit. He didn’t. God, I hope he doesn’t hate me-”

“Dude. NO. He doesn’t hate you. Trust me. He thinks you’re the bees’ knees. If bees even have knees. Do they?”

Clint honestly looked perturbed at the thought that they might not. “Huh,” he mused. “Wonder why that never occurred to me before now?”

Bucky scrunched his nose in amused disgust. “That’s what you’re thinking about right now?”

“Well, I was thinking about cuddling with my husband, but you’re kind of putting the kibosh on it. I’ve got a shower, so you wouldn’t have to Walk of Shame it out of here, Romeo. C’mon.” Clint patted the bed again, and Bucky’s resolve faltered. “No regrets?”

Bucky huffed.

Clint held up his finger and thumb with very little space in between. “Little regret?” His voice was hopeful, and Bucky felt himself crumble.

“No.” Bucky dropped his pants back onto the floor, peeling back the sheets, and Clint chuckled when Bucky gathered him in his arms, kissing him deeply despite his morning breath. They lay facing each other, limbs tangled, and Bucky hated the intrusion of reality. In another day, they would dock, tour Sydney, and then head back to the states. Bucky would only be in touch with Clint through Instagram and texts and the random Skype call, and that distressed him and felt all wrong.

So goddamned wrong.

“I gave you a hickey by accident,” Bucky confessed.

Clint’s eyes grew round. “You’re shitting me.”

“Nope. Big ol’ love bite.”

Clint poked Bucky’s side, but then he smiled and leaned in, kissing Bucky long and slow.

“What was that for?” Bucky asked when they came up for air.

“It just sounds better when you call it a love bite,” Clint told him. “I just liked the sound of it."


	5. Do the Math

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s like those word problems they give you on the SAT, on the math portion,” Clint mused. “If plane A takes off from LAX at seven AM flying at sixty miles per hour, and plane B leaves from Logan Airport at the same time traveling fifty-five miles per hour, how much did you overpay for peanuts at the newstand?”
> 
> “I don’t remember that question on the SAT.”
> 
> “Yeah, but. Makes ya think, doesn’t it?”
> 
> “What does it make you think, Barton?”
> 
> “That any plane trip that I take is gonna feel too long til I can see you again, Buck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted this to go a little faster in terms of updates, but I lost my focus. I didn’t know if it should be short, sweet and neat, with no conflict where the dating more or less happens off panel and then “YAY, HAPPILY EVER AFTER!” or if this should go in my usual Angsty Ridiculousness where there’s an Actual Conflict with close calls and misunderstandings and more SEX of the make-up variety. 
> 
> And then, there’s Wade.
> 
> So. Here we go.

Between moving into his apartment and getting acclimated at the university, Bucky didn’t have much time for social media updates and phone calls. So in the long run, it shouldn’t have surprised him that his list of notifications on his Facebook was miles long, rife with exclamation points and all caps, and all of it pointed to him being the World’s Shittiest Friend EVER.

Bucky sank into his desk chair and bit into the large, dripping sandwich as he waited for his laptop to boot up. His PowerPoint files still needed editing, he had two quizzes to write, and he still needed to find himself a local gym. The past week of no workouts was doing unfortunate things to his sleep cycle and his digestion. Bucky felt like a lump. The excitement of living across the world on a different continent hadn’t dulled yet, but he needed to get his act together.

In the meantime, though, Facebook.

“Holy. SHIT.”

The words _You’ve been tagged in the Our Wedding Album by Clinton Francis Barton_ showed up as he rolled through the list of updates, and the next seventy-five replies and reactions from his friends and family all promised to sound like screaming when he read them in his head.

“Aw, man. Clint. I wasn’t ready for this, buddy.”

He hadn’t wasted any time. But Bucky laughed, nearly choking on his bite of sandwich as he clicked on the first one.

_Why the hell wasn’t I allowed to plan your bachelor party?_ That was Tony. Not surprising. Bucky knew his priorities by now, even though they were mostly just “work friends” who only went out at the behest of their other friends when it was a group outing to the dive bar on the edge of campus once all of their papers were graded. Rhoades, of course, asked the more important questions.

_Dude. Are we just gonna sleep on the fact that you got MARRIED without telling us?_

The string of replies was about a foot long. A FOOT. As Bucky read through them, he watched brand new notifications slowly pop up for the same bank of comments. What he really wanted was to look at the album itself. 

He needed to relive it and let it sink in that it really happened. Bucky wiped his hands on the wadded up paper towel before mouse-clicking through the gallery.

“Shit,” he muttered aloud. “Clint… what the _fuck_.”

It felt so strange to be confronted with the fallout of his prank in vivid, living color. 

“We did that,” Bucky muttered to himself. “We actually _did_ that.”

The album’s cover photo showed Clint dipping him for a kiss. That had to have happened after a few mai-tais, Bucky decided. Everything that happened after they said their “I do’s” was a blur. The photo itself was taken with excellent timing and a good idea for lighting. Bucky was laughing beneath Clint’s lips, hands fisted in his ridiculous purple shirt. The picture captured total abandon and something akin to joy, the kind that didn’t need reason or explanation and that you didn’t realize you thirsted for until you had a taste. Wade had to have taken that photo. He _had_ to have.

Bucky went to Clint’s Facebook profile, smirking at the caption “you two are now Facebook friends.” More than friends, Zuckerberg. Of _course_ Clint’s profile avatar had Instagram filtered puppy dog ears, eyes, and a lolling tongue. But when Bucky scrolled through the rest of his gallery, just because he was feeling nosey, well.

Well.

It told a completely different story of Clinton Francis Barton. Most of them were candids, much like his Instagram had been, but. This was different. So much of the time, Facebook photo albums were sanitized. Work safe. Family friendly. The posts always consisted of “Look at me! I’m adulting! I’m living right! My spouse and I have been together for fifty years! Our kids are better than yours! Let me throw ten memes a day at you of philosophical quotes, Bible verses, and Joel Osteen written in bold font over stock photos that look like Mentos ads! And if you scroll past it without saying ‘Amen,’ you should be ashamed of yourself!”

Clint’s Facebook was kind of ridiculous. 

Jesus _Christ_.

Okay. There were a few shots of the Clint that Bucky had come to know in the karaoke bar, face flushed, air guitaring and giving no fucks. But, then there were other photos that made Bucky set down his dinner and click on them to zoom in and get a closer look at Clint’s _soul_ and the way that it shone out of his eyes. 

Bucky’s mom had mentioned that Clint volunteered at an animal shelter. That explained all of the pictures of him with different breeds of dogs and the fact that all of them appeared to _adore_ him. Bucky laughed outright at the shot of him with an enormous Doberman sitting in a huge sink, covered in shampoo foam and attempting to climb out. He had his dark paws planted against Clint’s shoulders, and Clint was grinning like a goofball, shirt dripping as he attempted to wash the beast. The same dog was licking Clint’s face in several different shots while Clint toweled him dry. The last shot showed Clint grimacing and throwing out his hands while the dog shook himself, spattering him hopelessly. Whoever Clint worked with at the shelter had a soft spot for him and a great eye for capturing the kindness in his face and how lax and easy he was in his skin when he was taking care of the dogs. Bucky’s favorite was of Clint holding the full-sized pit bull mix like it was an unruly toddler. There were others taken at the gym that Clint ran. Bucky laughed outright at one of him with a phone headset on his head, giving the camera his best Customer Service face. There were a few of him demonstrating different types of bows outside, and Bucky enjoyed the sight of his rippling muscles as he shot.

Some of the shots were taken when Clint wasn’t looking into the camera. Bucky saw hints of different moods in each. Impatience. Exhaustion. Frustration. So many moments where he couldn’t keep those emotions off of that boyish face. The camera loved him, though. Every little detail, like the cuts on his face from shaving, to the tiny little nicks that looked like the nocks of his arrows grazed him a little too closely, or the little laugh lines crinkling around the corners of his eyes. 

 

So. That was Clint in his “everyday” mode, when he wasn’t far from home on a costly vacation. Bucky realized that he’d been staring - gaping, actually - at his pictures for almost ten minutes.

Which was only fair, since Bucky wouldn’t be stateside again for another year. And it had been hard enough just to say goodbye. So hard, in fact, that they spent their time off the boat together after their first attempt to break it off failed spectacularly. George, Winifred and Becca champed at the bit, loaded with their cameras, backpacks and other gear, waiting for Bucky to come with them to their hotel so they could go on the harbour tour.

Bucky and Clint felt them shooting them glances, and the space between them felt awkward and too wide, even standing inches apart. “So. You’re gonna email me?”

“I’ve got you on my Skype list already,” Bucky promised.

“Yeah. Comes in handy.”

“You’re gonna get in touch when you get back to the states, right?”

“Course, of course! First thing I’m planning to do as soon as I walk in through the door.”

“Before even checking the mail?”

“Before the mail. Before I even call my _mom_. Maybe not before I take that first piss after i get home to my own bathroom.” Bucky chuckled and nodded emphatically.

“No. You can do that first. That’s half the fun of traveling. Coming home.”

“Yeah.” Some emotion that Bucky wondered if Clint wanted him to see flitted over his features. Just for a second. He shrugged and told him “is this where we hug it out?”

“I’d be sad if you didn’t,” Bucky told him easily, and.

And that was apparently the right thing to say. Again.

“No. No, no. No Sad Bucky.” Clint’s brows furrowed as he pulled Bucky into his arms for a crushing hug.

Bucky wheezed a laugh. “Folks are staring, now.” But his arms coiled around Clint, and he breathed in his scent. He was going to miss it, and this was growing harder with every second.

_Goddamn it._

“I had so much fun with you,” Clint admitted. “Seriously. Nothing’s ever gonna top this. You know that, right? Nobody’s ever just married me on a whim.”

“My track record’s usually not this good with anyone else,” Bucky admitted.

Wade and Becca shoulder-bumped each other and exchanged knowing looks.

“What a couple of saps,” she murmured.

“Right?”

“Sure is taking a while for a simple goodbye between a couple of guys who just met who are gonna part as friends,” Becca added.

“Oh, however shall they put this on the shelf and get on with their lives apart?”

“Only fate will tell.”

“Destiny.”

“Kismet.”

“Cheap airfare in a competitive travel market.”

The two of them turned to each other, tapped their lips with their fingers, and hummed “Hmmmmmm” just as Bucky and Clint gave in to the urge to kiss. Because that was what two guys who were planning on maintaining a long distance friendship did, right?

 

...right?

RIGHT?

 

“It’d sure be nice if we could hurry so we can get checked into the hotel before there’s a crowd at the front desk,” Winifred wondered aloud.

“Bucky already thinks we embarrass him, dear. No need to be subtle.” George patted his wife’s shoulder fondly, then turned and tucked his finger and thumb into the corners of his mouth, blasting a loud, shrill whistle that threatened the ear drums of anyone within a fifty-foot radius.

Bucky and Clint broke apart guiltily, both dazed and flushing. “Okay. So. Hey. What’re you guys gonna do when you dock?”

“Check into the hotel. Take the harbor tour. Maybe go check out the Blue Mountains. We were gonna see the theater tomorrow.”

“Are there anymore tickets available on that harbour tour?” Clint asked hopefully.

“It’s gonna probably be boring. That’s what my parents wanted to see.”

“I don’t mind ‘boring.’”

Bucky bit the corner of his lip, and out came his phone from his pocket. Clint’s face brightened as he hovered at his side, hand touching his lower back as he stared over his shoulder. Bucky scanned the site for ticket availability.

“We’re in luck. If you consider that lucky.” 

“Hell, yeah, I do, Buck.”

“We’re gonna do lame tourist stuff.”

“I can lame it up with the best of them.”

“No, you can’t. You’re not lame at all.”

“Aw.” Clint ducked his face, but Bucky caught a smile that skated on the edge of “cheesy.” Bucky’s fingers started tapping his screen, and soon Clint and Wade had tickets on the harbour tour, too.

“Let’s jet,” Bucky told him. 

They walked off the boat holding hands. 

 

*

 

The next three days were filled with “lame tourist stuff.” 

And all of it felt like a revelation with Clint.

Bike tours. Wildlife reserves. Gardens. Gift shops. 

Sunsets.

And waking up with Clint curled around his back, tangled in the stiff hotel sheets, wondering why he had to meet Clint Barton now. 

The universe had a shit sense of humor.

*

 

The Big Goodbye was inevitable, unwelcome, and arrived too soon. Clint woke Bucky up uncharacteristically early, instead of relying on the time zone difference and their own circadian rhythms to pull them more gently from sleep. Bucky “mmmphed” into his mouth, realizing the urgency and the hunger in Clint’s kisses, and he gave himself over to it completely.

“Morning,” Bucky murmured between kisses as Clint peeled the covers back, exposing him to his hot gaze.

“Barely, but I don’t give a fuck right now,” Clint admitted. “Want you.”

“For the next couple of hours, you have me,” Bucky reminded him as Clint rolled himself on top of him.

Clint huffed, stroking Bucky’s hair, tugging a lock of it to chide him. “You don’t hafta remind me, Bucko.” He rolled his hips, sharing an impressive morning boner. Both of them had godawful morning breath and bedhead, and the low morning light was just beginning to turn the room a soft, deep blue-gray. Bucky mentally counted all of the new freckles that Clint acquired from his days out on the water. He cupped Clint’s cheek, stroking his short scruff of sandy stubble, deciding he liked it.

“Lube’s over there.” Bucky leaned up and kissed Clint between his eyebrows, which were furrowing together. “It’s okay. You’ll be home soon, with all kinds of cool stories to tell about all the crazy shit that we saw and ate. Know what I wish?”

“That we’d had a fake engagement too, so we could do one of those cheesy photo shoots with the little chalkboard signs?”

Bucky’s lips twisted. “Well, fuck. I wish that _now_.”

“What else do you wish?”

“That you’d booked a longer trip.”

“Hey, I get to hop back on the boat and listen to Becca telling me about all the embarrassing shit you did as a kid. That’s a consolation, at least.”

“I think it’s dangerous letting you continue to hang out with my sister.”

“Hey. Until you get some piece of paper saying otherwise, Buck, she’s my sister now, too.”

“Oh, you think so, huh?”

Clint nodded and leaned down to suck Bucky’s bottom lip between his teeth, and talk was over for the moment. They ground against each other, groping and straining, trying to memorize each other with their hands and lips.

“I’m going to miss this,” Bucky mused as he gave Clint’s ass a squeeze.

“That's all?” Clint faked hurt, giving Bucky a quivering lip and puppy dog eyes.

“It _is_ a nice ass,” Bucky told him solemnly. “When we get an annulment, I still get visitation.”

“Jesus, you’re ridiculous.” Clint’s laughter vibrated through them both, and they went back to their slow goodbye. Clint owned him with his tongue, and by the time he reached Bucky’s throbbing sex, the sky outside was lashed pink and aubergine. Bucky’s fingers curled into Clint’s short, spiky waves as took him apart. It didn’t take long for him to leave Bucky a limp and shuddering wreck buried in the mound of pillows.

“I love watching you do that,” Clint told him hoarsely. 

“Get on your back, and you can watch me do it again.”

“You don’t have to-”

“Don’t be a gentleman. Let me take care of that for you.”

Clint gave him a sheepish smile. “No boners at breakfast?”

“Please, not in front of my parents.”

“Bad form?”

“Bad form.”

“Lucky. Lucky. Me.” Bucky rolled Clint onto his back and straddled his lap, handing him the lube. Clint got with the program and slicked his fingers, and despite the fact that Bucky had given up an orgasm that curled his toes, his dick was twitching back to life at the press of Clint’s finger easing its way inside him. Clint eased himself back, taking Bucky with him, scooching toward the headboard until he was sitting up with his back against it.

“That’s better.” And it was. Their bodies were flush against each other, and all Clint had to to was tilt his chin up to kiss him while he kept his hands busy. Bucky reached between them and ringed their cocks in his fist, pushing himself into that heat. “Oh, God, baby, it’s so much better.”

Bucky gripped the headboard for balance and thrust himself against Clint while he stroked him, readying him. Clint was swollen in Bucky’s grip and leaking hot, clear drops. Bucky almost wanted to taste them, but he didn’t want to give up his vantage point of the sensation of Clint priming him and finding all of the places that made jolts of pleasure rush up his spine. And Clint was staring up into his face. Awed.

Hell, no, Bucky wasn’t getting down from where he was.

“Look at you,” Clint rasped.

Bucky became a fumbling mess as he struggled to work the condom out of the wrapper.

“Take it easy.”

“I want you so much right now.” Was that Bucky, sounding so desperate?

“You have me. You hear me? Bucky? You have me.” Bucky felt the soft press of lips against his collarbones and tracing a tender path up the side of his throat. “You have me.”

Bucky fought down the damning words before they could fly out. _You’re sailing away from me before noon. I’m going to have to wake up without you tomorrow morning and it’s freaking me out. We have to get on with our lives, and I have no fucking clue how mine’s supposed to look anymore._

One-year sabbatical. Australia. Meet new people. Broaden his horizons. Sure. 

All of that sounded fantastic until Clint Fucking Barton stumbled into his life and bought him a drink.

“Take it easy,” Clint told him again when Bucky shifted, poising himself over Clint’s Trojan-wrapped cock.

Bucky shook his head. “I can’t,” he admitted on a rough rasp. And Clint’s face contorted in shock, eyes widening with the shock of Bucky lowering himself down onto him with one hard, clean thrust.

“Okay.” All of the breath felt like it had been punched out of Clint’s lungs. He let Bucky drain kisses from his mouth as he slowly began to move his hips. Clint gripped them in his hands, groaning with need. Bucky’s cock swelled back to life as he let Clint meet his thrusts, finding his sweet spot. They found a rhythm, choppy and uneven at first, but Bucky took over for a few minutes. He regretted whoever was trying to sleep on the other side of the wall, because he was putting a few miles on that headboard…

Clint was breathing into Bucky’s skin, murmuring curses and Bucky’s name, and practically speaking in tongues. Nothing else felt like sex with Clint. Intense. Not pretty. A little rough. More tender than Bucky would have ever guessed.

And he felt so goddamned connected to him. Clint’s eyes were hazy and dilated, his skin was flushed and sheened with sweat, and the hair around his temples was darkened and damp. He was a feast for Bucky’s eyes, muscles straining as Bucky rode him. His lips were chapped and rosy from Bucky’s kisses, and Bucky felt proud of himself for leaving them that way. 

Bucky’s legs burned, and Clint felt the shift in him, noticing his discomfort. “No. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.”

“You already did!” It wasn’t even a complaint. Bucky’s expression was incredulous.

“I know, but I need to do this. Trust me. Just trust me, baby. You feel good like this, but-” Clint kissed him, hard, and Bucky felt a thousand little lights go on in his brain at the sensation of being rolled onto his back, still engaged with Clint, and Clint began rocking into him without missing a beat.

“Fine, then,” Bucky mock-complained, but his eyes drifted shut with pleasure as Clint found their rhythm again.

“No sad Bucky,” he reminded him. 

“No.” Bucky’s words came out in choppy little breaths. “Sad. Bucky.”

Clint made him come _again_ , the sonofabitch. His cock gave up its last gasp, painting him in a sticky puddle.

“Jesus,” Clint croaked, staring down into Bucky’s face, hips pistoning inside him for those last rapid, uneven, desperate strokes. “JESUS, BUCKY-!”

Bucky felt him pulsing inside him, watched the pleasure hit him, changing his face.

Bucky knew he was in trouble, now.

Clint collapsed into his arms. The two of them lay shuddering and panting. Bucky squeezed Clint’s softening cock where they were still engaged, just enjoying the feeling of fullness, and Clint twitched with his whole body in response. His arms tightened around Bucky, and he kissed his chest.

They almost dozed off again, but Clint kept teasing Bucky awake, almost to the point of being annoying, but they made slow progress toward the shower. Bucky began to scrub himself with the tiny stub of hotel soap, until Clint took that task from him, slowly soaping his skin and taking extra time on his back. Bucky groaned beneath his ministrations when Clint kneaded his muscles and loosened the tension he didn’t realize he was carrying in his spine.

“You’re gonna turn me into a lump, Barton. Or a prune. I won’t wanna come out of here.”

Clint turned him around and uncapped the tiny shampoo bottle. “Let me do your hair.”

“There’s hardly enough for one of us in that little thing.”

“I don’t mind. I’ve been looking forward to this. C’mere.”

And Bucky let him dawdle over it and play, working the meager suds into his thick waves. Bucky turned them so that Clint could have a turn under the spray, but he was practically purring at the sensation of those strong, calloused hands massaging his scalp. Best morning after _ever_.

They detached from each other long enough to groom and dress, doing a sweep of the room for their belongings. Bucky began to regroup, lining up his mental list of tasks for the day. Chief of which was seeing his parents, Clint and Wade off at the dock. He still needed to meet his new landlord at his rental and get the keys. Other less appealing chores prodded him, making him argue with their unappealing voices, _Can’t a guy finish enjoying his vacation?_

Back to reality.

“Hope they’ve got some decent bacon,” Clint muttered as they gathered up the key cards and their bags.

“You ain’t kidding.”

It was an easy enough subject. A distraction.

Clint already felt too far away when they got to the lobby, but Bucky gave Wade and Becca casual smiles as they approached.

“Mom’s already wigging out,” Becca pronounced.

“Are you guys gonna tell ‘em before they ship out?” Wade demanded.

“Not yet,” Bucky said. “I think they’re actually starting to accept it.”

Clint gave a rusty chuckle at that. “Suuuure, pal.”

Bucky wiggled his eyebrows. Becca just facepalmed.

“I can’t believe we’re related,” she told him. “Honestly.”

“Well, if you want to talk about ‘related,’ now, hey, now,” Clint pointed out, motioning between the two of them.

“Oh, of course, how could I forget.” Becca enveloped him in a hug and gave him a little poke in the side that made Clint yelp. “You better be nicer to me than this jerk, buddy.”

“Only if you promise I get to be your favorite.”

“That’s not hard, Clint.”

“HEY!” Bucky made his best stinkface in his sister’s direction and stuck out his tongue.

“Oh, that was attractive.” Wade threatened Bucky with his camera phone. “Make that one again. Let me capture it for posterity.”

“Oh, there you are! We’ve been up for a long time, Bucky,” Winifred accused as she joined them with George in tow.

“Up with the roosters,” George confirmed. He looked like that wasn’t his choice.

“Who else wants bacon? I want bacon,” Clint told them all.

They stood in the continental breakfast line and found seats outside to enjoy the fresh air. 

“This is gorgeous. I’m already sad to be going home,” Becca admitted.

Clint shoulder-checked Bucky. “Gonna miss me?”

“Of course, muffin.”

Winifred almost choked on her juice. Wade, to his credit, behaved himself and ate his waffle without any commentary.

When George and Winifred got up for another cup of coffee, Bucky reached down and found Clint’s hand. It grounded him when Clint squeezed his back.

 

*

They managed a goodbye that was surprisingly undramatic. Once Bucky accepted the obligatory final lectures from his parents.

“Take care of yourself, sweetheart. Don’t do too much shopping while you’re out here. Remember that you’re going to have to ship everything home when you come back, and it’s expensive.”

“I know, Ma.”

“Don’t take no wooden nickels. Look both ways before crossing the street. Don’t talk to strangers.” It was George’s standard warning whenever they said goodbye, and for some reason, it made Bucky’s eyes burn this time.

“Love you, Pop.” Their hugs were tight, and Becca slugged him in the arm first before giving him hers. Then, Bucky moved on to Wade and gave him a shoulder-slapping handshake, before Wade yanked him into a hug.

“Don’t be afraid to show your feelings, James!” he cried.

“Nice,” Becca muttered, shaking her head and grinning, because it was _Wade_.

Then, he finally moved on to Clint, who was watching him with resigned blue eyes, scrubbing his fingers through his hair.

“I promise to behave myself around your parents. Can’t say that Becca and I won’t find trouble to get into, though.”

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

“Aw, no! No! Okay. We’ll find some trouble. I promise.”

“Attaboy.”

“Hey. Get home safe,” Bucky murmured. “Okay?”

“Don’t get bitten by any snakes.”

“I’ll make sure to taste awful.”

“Ha! No. Um. You can’t. Okay?”

Wade overheard that and his shoulders shook.

“Bye, Clint.”

“Bye, babe.”

The kiss was brief, just to give them both a break. Bucky backed away from the ramp, and he made his way back off of the dock toward the waiting area for public transport.

 

Wade leaned shoulder-to-shoulder with Clint as he stared out from the railing, watching Bucky depart. The ship filled with passengers, and the deck slowly grew crowded and noisy again. “You all right?”

“Yeah. Will be, I guess.”

“I don’t think I like the sound of that.”

“Tequila,” Clint told him. “As soon as they open the bar.”

“I’m buyin,’ sugar.”

*

 

Clint kept his promise. Bucky received the phone call at the crack of dawn and answered it as quickly as he could scramble for it, tripping over his shoes and bashing his leg against the wheel of his bike where it was parked in the kitchen.

“H’lo?” he answered around a yawn.

“Babe,” Clint told him, sounding out of breath, no doubt from climbing the stairs in his apartment. “Buck. I’m home. I made it. Wade and I just got back. Just wanted to check in.”

Bucky felt warmth suffuse him at the sound of his voice, slightly hoarse but pleased. “God, what time is it over there?”

“Probably yesterday to you.”

Bucky huffed a laugh. “Yeah. You’re probably right. How was the trip back?”

“Not as fun as the way there.”

“Bucky sank into his chair, nodding, even though it was a voice call, and Clint couldn’t see him. They’d have to Skype soon. “You trying to butter me up, Barton?”

“I dunno. Is it working?”

“I’m pretty easy. It’s working, pal.”

“Yes! Nice! Hey, old on. I’ve gotta take care of business.”

“Business?”

Bucky heard a loud thunk at the other end of the line and rushing footfalls. Then, there was a slam of a door. “Clint?”

Silence for about ten seconds followed, and then Bucky heard running water, the return of the footsteps, and then Clint’s flustered voice.

“Sorry. Had to tinkle.”

Bucky laughed outright.

“See? I put you ahead of my first pee at home. That’s devotion. You’re _welcome_.”

“I’m the luckiest guy in the world,” Bucky agreed through his snickers. “God, Clint. You goof.”

“Hey, Bucky? It’s. It’s really good to hear your voice. I just thought I’d mention that.”

“Yeah. Well. I’m enjoying the sound of yours right now too, buddy. Glad you made it home safe. Do you get to rest tomorrow and wind down?”

“Nope!” Clint told him cheerfully. “I have to open the gym tomorrow first thing in the morning. My dumb shit brother Barney was showing off with his buddies from the range last night. They bet him he couldn’t do a handstand on top of two barrels stacked up on top of each other. Fell off and broke his wrist. I had to Uber home from the port because he was in the ER. Wade split the cost of it with me. He’s already in bed.”

“You should probably turn in too, then,” Bucky told him reluctantly.

“Yeah, yeah. Nothing new. I’m a night owl. Coffee and I have a complicated but rewarding relationship.”

“I’ll have to keep that in mind. For whenever I’m stateside again.”

There was a beat of silence between them. “When was that gonna be again, did you say?”

“About a year, unless they adjust my contract.”

“So. Maybe not as long?”

“Well, maybe longer, if they think I do a good job. Depends on how I like it too, though.”

He heard Clint’s ragged sigh on the other end. “You’ll do fucking awesome. They’ll _love _you.” Then Clint told him, “Hey. Don’t worry about the time zones when you call? Just. Just call. Okay?”__

__“I’ll still try to remember, Barton,” Bucky told him. He toyed with his pajama strings, yanking on them as they talked. “I suck at math, since that’s not what I teach. But we’ll figure it out.”_ _

__“It’s like those word problems they give you on the SAT, on the math portion,” Clint mused. “If plane A takes off from LAX at seven AM flying at sixty miles per hour, and plane B leaves from Logan Airport at the same time traveling fifty-five miles per hour, how much did you overpay for peanuts at the newstand?”_ _

__“I don’t remember that question on the SAT.”_ _

__“Yeah, but. Makes ya think, doesn’t it?”_ _

__“What does it make you think, Barton?”_ _

__“That any plane trip that I take is gonna feel too long til I can see you again, Buck.”_ _

__And there were the words. Right out in the open. Because that was Clint._ _

__“Speaking of which, Clint, how much do you figure we spent on alcohol on the entire trip?”_ _

__Clint warmed to that subject. “I haven’t checked my bank balance yet. It’s gonna _hurt_.”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> George's goodbye to Bucky about "don't take no wooden nickels" is a common goodbye in my family, particularly between me and my older sister. She also used to tell me such gems as "When you use the toilet and you're about to fall in, arms to the side." Apparently, her social studies teacher used to tell all the kids that. He was such a weird dude. So, yeah. You needed to know that.


	6. My Bucky Lies Over the Ocean…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Can we file jointly on our taxes if you didn’t live here?”
> 
> “Seriously, Barton?”
> 
> “Hey. Just wonderin’. I mean, that would count for out-of-state income, but technically, we got married. Turbotax asked me if I made any major life changes that would affect my tax outlook, so.”
> 
> Bucky huffed. “I thought you’d call me because you missed the sound of my voice, like you told me last week. You just want me for the tax write-off.”
> 
> “Um. A, I _do_ miss the sound of your voice. It’s making me pop a _big_ one right now. And B, I just do what Turbotax tells me to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has taken me a while to resume. Life. School. Work. Family. Muses that don’t give a flying fuck. But, hey. Have some Clint and Bucky tapdancing around what they want, even though their loved ones know what’s going on.

“So.” Becca’s voice was casual, as it usually was when she went in for the kill. “Have you heard from Clint?”

Bucky sighed, sat back and rubbed his eyes. “God, Becs. You’re as bad as Mom. She asked me that two days ago.”

“So, have you? Answer the question, Buckturd.”

“Just for that, I won’t.”

“I already know you have, when you say that. You know that, right?”

“Well, maybe I did, and maybe I didn’t.”

“How did he sound?”

“A little off, I guess?”

“Aw. Off, how?”

“Just. I don’t know. Not. Not as Clinty as usual.”

A claim that Bucky could make, now, after three months. Part of him was impressed that they had managed to keep in touch for that long, or that regularly.

The rest of him was relieved as _fuck_ every time Clint called, or his phone pinged with one of his poorly spelled, emoji-filled texts. 

_Just got bak from rock climin. Wush u wer heer hubby xoxoxo_ A row of kissy faces and one crying one followed this. Dr. Grey glanced over at him during one of their staff meetings and caught him grinning wistfully down at his phone right before he crammed it into his pocket.

Bucky liked his apartment well enough for the view, but his bed felt too big and empty. The sunsets reminded Bucky of overpriced drinks and disco balls, and he felt a little pang every time he saw a travel ad for skydiving.

“Was he sad?”

“Nah. I don’t think that was it. He just didn’t have his usual pep. You know. Clint’s pep. That little thing that he has.”

“He’s a goober,” she said for him.

“But in the _best_ way.”

“Geez, listen to you. That was sappy, Bucky.”

“That’s not sappy. I wasn’t being sappy!”

“Nope.You just punched the tap into the tree and let out all this nice sap, big brother.”

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, FUCK.

Bucky sighed. He hated it when she was right.

“You have to admit it. That was sappy.”

“Leave me alone. You’re mean.”

“When are you coming back stateside again?”

“Christmas,” he told her. 

“You can stay with me,” she reminded him, since Bucky had rented out his house to a young couple with a two-year old and a well-behaved springer spaniel. 

“This is a given.” Becca had a decent fold-out couch and wouldn’t mind Bucky’s night owl tendencies. Plus, she’d have alcohol and wouldn’t side-eye him for drinking any. Winifred still acted like Bucky wasn’t legal yet whenever he dipped himself a cup of egg nog, even though he was paying his own car insurance premiums and had voted in five elections. “You’re still on the hook for our annual viewing of The Nightmare Before Christmas.”

“And Scrooged,” he added.

“Oh, God, Bucky, of course Scrooged. It’s not Christmas without it.”

“Think Mom’s forgiven me yet?”

Becca snorted. “Heheheheheheh. We’re still not in a place to talk about it yet, buddy.”

Bucky bit his lip. “Have I been disinherited?”

“I don’t know, big brother. If so, though, I get the Hummel figurines and the seashell coffee table.”

“Bullshit. I call dibs on the table. It’ll go better in my house.”

“Your house looks like a frat boy garage sale on the best of days. The coffee table’s mine.”

“You actually said that. That’s it. We’re not related anymore.”

“Hey, we might not be if Mom’s not speaking to you by Christmas. Keep that in mind.”

Okay. Maybe she was still a little sore at Bucky. Just a _smidgen_.

 

Bucky had let her dangle for about a month. Their conversations were infrequent anyway, while he was still getting settled in and grading papers. Winifred was cordial enough, leading in with safe topics. _Do you ever eat vegemite? See any koalas on the way to work in the morning? How’s the weather this week? You haven’t gotten an accent yet._ She missed him. She hoped he was making friends and eating well. 

Inevitably, she would save Clint for last. _How’s your husband?_ She always put edgy emphasis on the word, as though she was still digesting it as a concept. 

_Fine, Ma. He just bought a new bow. He’s taking Wade with him to his Aunt Edith’s for Thanksgiving. He just got back from base jumping last week._ And it was so hard. Bucky was _bursting_ at the seams every time Clint’s name came up. Bucky still scrolled through the photos from the ship on his lunch breaks.

Clint played Bucky’s guilty conscience, once again proving that he had layers. And, y’know. That he was just a sweetheart.

“You should probably let the cat outta the bag, Buck-O. I feel kinda bad messing with your mom’s head like this.”

“Aww, it’s fine, Barton. C’mon. She’s actually getting used to the idea of having a son-in-law.”

Clint made a little chuffed noise on the other end of the line. “Think so?”

“Well, yeah. Why wouldn’t she? She randomly asked me what your favorite color was, by the way. You might find yourself the recipient of socks at some point. Ma loves giving me socks.”

“Aw, heck yeah! I mean, you know it’s purple. If she asks again. I need socks _so bad_. I just… I never get around to buying any?”

“You and me both, I know that, and I already told her,” Bucky confirmed. 

Clint chuckled. “Who has the best husband in the whole, wide world?”

Bucky’s face scrunched. “Ask me that again after my mom finds out what we did. She might make you a widow, buddy.”

“No. Your mom’s awesome. She is.” Clint paused. “Just. Just tell her soon, okay? I mean. I’m okay with her thinking we did this for real, but. You know.”

Bucky felt a weird little squeezing in his chest. “What do I know, Clint?”

“You _know_. We made a big ruckus. That was a ruckus. Weddings always are. I mean, my brother wasn’t there, and neither was my mom and my aunt, but. I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m goin’ on about right now, but… I guess, I think it’s best if you’re honest with her. She doesn’t have to buy me socks if I’m not her son-in-law, right?”

“Clint. You’re kidding, right?”

“Well, they’re _socks._ That’s. That’s _gifty_.”

“Clint! C’mon. Anyone else would be milking this! We could have even registered on Amazon or Target!”

That made Clint chuckle. “What, like matching towels?”

“You’re thinking too small. I’m thinking a Blu-Ray player and a new car stereo.”

_”Target’s stuff discontinues every season! Stick with Amazon!”_ That was Wade’s disembodied voice in the background.

“Wilson’s got a point,” Clint mentioned.

“Tell him hey.”

“BUCKY SAYS HEY!” Clint didn’t turn far enough away from the mic on his phone when he yelled. Bucky’s ear rang, making him wince and wiggle his pinkie in it. “A registry list, huh?”

“Nah. I’m just kidding. I mean, we could do it. But not if you think we should come clean.”

“That’s the thing. I don’t… I mean, we could.”

The let the pause hang between them for a few seconds.

“Whatever you want to do, Buck.”

“Hey. Clint?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s fun being fake-married to you.”

Bucky heard the crack of his smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. You have great ideas. You make a good partner-in-crime.”

“I’m gonna put that on my Tinder profile,” Clint threatened.

“Hey! Don’t be hasty. You’re not a bachelor again, yet,” Bucky reminded him.

God, that gave him a pang. 

_Yet._

Fuck.

_FUCK._

“I’m good at folding laundry, too,” Clint claimed.

_”Liar! Don’t listen to this man, Bucky. His pants are going up in flames as we speak, and they’re hopelessly wrinkled!”_ That was Wade again.

“I keep seeing those life hack posts on Facebook,” Bucky told Clint, nonplussed. “They’re a fucking waste of time.”

“Oh, thank God I’m not the only one who thinks so,” Clint muttered. “Some of that shit just looks like more work. Kinda defeats the point.”

“Heck yeah, it does.”

They sighed in unison. 

“Hey. It’s okay. If you want to tell your mom. Just hope she doesn’t hate me when you do.”

“She won’t. I’m not in a big hurry, anyway, but she won’t. I promise. She’ll be a little peeved with me, but that’s nothing new. I promise, Clint. Pinkie-promise. I swear on our wedding china that we never registered for that she won’t hate you.”

“Don’t take the name of Lennox in vain.”

“Ooh. You’ve got better taste than me.”

“Aunt Edith has a nice set. You might You might get to see it. Y’know. If. If you ever get back to the states, and get to meet her in person. If you want.”

“Clint, she sounds like a _riot_.”

“She is. She totally is.” Clint warmed to the subject. “She helped raise me after Dad left. God, Bucky! She used to drive me to school in her pajamas with her curlers still in her hair.”

Of _course_ she did.

“Nice.”

“At least she drove me to school, though. I kept getting my ass kicked on the school bus.”

“What the hell, Clint? Why?”

“I dunno. Poor. Drinking dad. Then, a dad that was gone. And Barney was kind of a delinquent. Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, and all that shit.”

“I had a piece of shit car in high school,” Bucky blurted out. “I’m serious. It was four different colors because I couldn’t afford to get it repainted. The previous owner wrecked it twice. But I totally would have given you a ride to school if we’d gone to the same one.”

“Awwww, Buck-O!”

“I would’ve!”

“Yeah. yeah. Sure.”

“Besides, that means Becca would’ve had to sit in the back seat.”

“See? I knew you had an ulterior motive.”

“I don’t need an ulterior motive for a cute guy riding shotgun in my car.”

“You still just wanna make your sister sit in the back.”

“We still fight over shotgun whenever we have to go anywhere with Mom and Dad. Which is pointless, since Ma always get shotgun. I can’t win.”

“I really like your mom, though. Is it okay if I give her a hug? Like, if I see her out and about at Trader Joe’s or Costco, or anything?”

“Well, yeah. Hug my mom. I can’t.”

“Fuck. Right. That’s right. You can’t, yet. Okay. I’ll hug her for you.”

“Do me a favor and hug yourself for me, too, then, all right?”

Clint’s laugh was shaky. “Yeah. I will. Pinkie-swear.”

 

So. Bucky had Clint’s blessing to spill the beans.

Bucky wished he could say that it went well. Or that this was one of those things that they could just sweep under the rug, like the time Winifred caught him in the basement, making time with his high school boyfriend, Scott, when he was supposed to be grounded. Winifred and George came home from their bowling night a half an hour early. Worst parental lecture _ever_.

Until _now_.

“So. How’s school going? What section are you on now?”

“Cubism.”

“Ah. Three Musicians?”

“Yep.”

“I actually love that piece. Your sister bought me a print of it. I just had it framed.”

“That’s nice.”

“Becca never should have introduced me to the ‘Buy it Now’ option on eBay. Your father is about to lose it if another poster tube comes in the mail.”

“Heh. Yeah. Anyway.”

“What’s new, baby?”

“Well. It’s funny you should ask.”

“Oh, before you answer that, I picked up some socks for you. And a pack of undershirts. You might not need them where you are, since it’s so warm. But, maybe when you come home for the holiday. An undershirt makes all the difference when it gets cold the way it does here.”

“Yeah. Sure does.”

“I bought Clint some socks, too,” she told him casually. “We should really start planning the holidays, now that you have a plus-one, Jimmy, sweetheart.”

_Fuck,_ Bucky mouthed. 

“Don’t worry too much about it yet. I don’t even know what Clint’s plans are yet, Ma. No need to rush. It’s not even September, yet!”

“Well, I’m just thinking ahead. Did you know that Big Lots cleared out their garden section and had a little sign marked on the shelves for their holiday goods already?”

“Geez. Why?”

“Retailers love to rush the holiday,” Winifred mused. “I do love their decorations, though. That’s where I got those adorable little burlap snowman ornaments.”

“They were cute. But, yeah. Ma. Don’t worry about Clint coming for Christmas yet.”

“Well, Jimmy, he’s your _husband_ ,” she momsplained to him as though he was five. “I’ll need a bigger dining room table. And what about Wade? It would be rude not to invite him, too. He’s still his roommate, right?”

“Yes, Wade’s still Clint’s roommate, Ma, but… yeah. I guess it’d be rude not to invite him, too.” Because that logic was actually pretty sound. Or, it would be, if Bucky and Clint were legitimately married. The ink on his cruise ship marriage license was barely dry. Bucky hadn’t quite broached the subject to Clint about the cost of an annulment (he’d researched it, and it would have to wait after a handful of paydays, but it wasn’t unreachable), and it wasn’t something that he felt needed to be rushed. Not tomorrow. Not the day after tomorrow, either. What was another week? Or several?

“Okay. I can add the leaf to the table to extend it, but I might end up picking up a second table at some point. George found a nice one on Craigslist.”

Bucky scrubbed his palm over his face. This was going in tricky directions. “I still think it’s a little early to worry about that.”

“What does he usually do for the holidays?”

“He spends it with his mom and his Aunt Edith.”

“Does he have any food allergies?”

“Doesn’t matter. He eats what he wants, even if he breaks out in hives,” Bucky told her, because Wade had mentioned that. 

“Well, tell me anyway. I don’t want to have to ring in the New Year with my son and his new husband with an Epi-Pen after the Christmas ham.”

“Mom.”

“What’s wrong, dear?”

“Nothing’s wrong. You won’t… you won’t even have to worry about it. Thing is, Clint and I. Well. We might. Not. Be married.”

Bucky’s heart pounded in his chest.

“What?”

“Heh. Yeah. Surprise!” Bucky attempted, pushing levity into his voice.

“What do you mean, you might not be- Bucky. What are you saying?”

“Ma. Clint and I were only kidding. We’re not married.”

He heard his mom’s sharp intake of breath and the first, faint cluck of abject disappointment.

“Oh, my _Lord._ James. James Buchanan _Barnes_.”

She full-named him. This was gonna get ugly.

“Are you telling me. Are you telling me that you. And Clint. A. A _stranger_... “

The staccato pauses between words worried him.

“Please don’t have a heart attack,” he pleaded softly.

“Oh. Sure. Tell me that right after you tell me something that will make me have a heart attack,” she suggested, since Bucky had inherited her gift for being a smartass. George tried to claim credit, but Winifred was the master. “Most sons call home to ask for beer money. Or maybe bail. Or to say they got a new promotion. _My_ son’s idea of a practical joke is to marry a stranger in front of _hundreds_ of other strangers.”

“It was more like ‘dozens,’ Ma-”

“Jimmy. That’s _beside the point_.”

Ouch…

“Jimmy. What were you THINKING?!”

“Ma!”

“No. That’s not okay. You don’t. You don’t just… George. Come here. Take this. Take this. I can’t do this.”

“Ma. _Ma._ What are you doing?”

“Bucky?” That was George. Bucky’s stomach sank into his feet.

“Where’d Ma go?”

“To the kitchen. She just handed me the phone and said ‘Talk to your son.’”

“Geez.”

“Son? What did you do?”

“Dad. It’s not that bad.”

“Maybe lay it on me, and we’ll decide together if that’s the case. Your mother’s a little overwhelmed.”

Bucky pulled on his hair and felt heat rise into his cheeks. “So. I might’ve pulled Mom’s leg a little a month ago. When I got married to Clint.”

Silence.

Then, “How much leg pulling are we talking here, son?”

“Like. We’re not. Really. Married.”

George expelled a sharp breath.

“Pop-”

“Okay. On the one hand, that was original. On the other hand, Bucky… you know your mother. You know how she frets. We’re not as young as we used to be. We don’t have the same stamina that we did when you were little, or even when you were teenagers. Like, that night that we caught you with Scott. You hadn’t even come out to us quite yet, so. That could have been done more ideally. And with less nudity.”

Bucky thunked his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. He thunked it three more times, each one feeling more futile and doing nothing to numb him against his father’s scold.

“Bucky? I don’t want to sound like I lack faith. You’re an adult. You can do what you want. That’s the rule. But, you have to live with those decisions. Your mother’s upset. That was a lot of fuss, and you were pulling her leg. She told all of her friends that you got married. Including her Stitch and Bitch knitting circle.”

“Well, it wasn’t a secret. She can tell them-”

“Missing the point, son.”

“Sorry.”

“You should be. She’s always looked forward to the prospect of you and Becca eventually finding that special someone and planning your weddings. Real, honest-to-goodness weddings.”

“She still can. That’s the consolation prize she can take from this.”

“Bucky.” George’s tone was firm and brooked no bullshit.

“Well, she can.”

“She’s going to need some time to mull this over and process it, son.”

“Dad. It’s… come on.”

“What was the point of this, Bucky?”

“You said it yourself. I’m an adult. I make my own choices, even the worst possible ones. But this wasn’t my worst one. Not by a longshot.”

“Okay. Explain to me how it’s not.”

“Because Clint’s pretty great.”

“Sure. He seems like he knows how to have a good time. How worried should I be, though, that he went right along with you on this little harebrained scheme?”

“Don’t worry. How about that? Neither you or Ma should worry. Don’t, either way. He’s great, but we’re not married. Problem solved, even though there isn’t a problem.”

George sighed, before a rusty laugh escaped him.

“We would have enjoyed that cruise just as much without you springing a wedding on us, son.”

“Just for that, I’m getting fake-married on every family vacation that we all take together from now on.”

“Did you hear that, honey? Jimmy said he’s going to get fake-married the next time we all go on another trip together.”

“Give me that phone…”

“Ma, I’m kidding. I’m _kidding_.”

“Bucky. You didn’t even know him.”

“Ma. It’s fine. Clint and I are getting to know each other just fine.”

Oh, she didn’t know the _half_ of it.

“You could still get it annulled, couldn’t you? Is it binding?”

“Ma!”

“Find that out. Seems ridiculous thinking about it now, but you’re closing the gate after the horse is already out in the pasture.”

Bucky thunked his head back against the wall again and made a long, gurgling found of frustration. “It’s gonna be fine, Ma.”

“You even said you’re married on your Facebook,” Winifred accused. 

“I can change it back whenever I get around to it, Ma. It’s Facebook. People change their relationship status every day.”

“Not _functional_ people,” she insisted. “Your father and I don’t.”

Bucky pictured his father rolling his eyes, even as he heard George mutter “She has a point, Buck” in the background.

“Okay. Great job being consistent.”

“We could always say ‘It’s Complicated,’” George suggested dryly. “Isn’t that one of the options on there, son?”

Winifred snorted. “We’ve never been ‘complicated.’ Things were never complicated at all until we had you and your sister, Jimmy.”

“HEY!”

“Had that one coming, buddy,” George told him.

“No more fake weddings,” Winifred told him. “Swear to me that you don’t pull something like this again, Jimmy.”

“Ma. Don’t worry about it. Everything will be fine.”

“Won’t you need an annulment, though?”

“Ma. It’s no big deal. Everything is fine.”

“Okay. Everything’s fine,” she mused. “Why on earth should I worry about my son and a legally binding ship wedding that he did as a joke?”

“I’m gonna get going, Ma. I have a quiz to create and I have to get my PowerPoint file in order.”

“Oh, that’s fine,” she told him, shifting gears. “I don’t even know what time it is where you are.”

“It’s already tomorrow,” he assured her.

“Right, right. It is. Okay, Jimmy.” She sighed. “I just wish you weren’t so impulsive, sometimes. I don’t know where you get that from.”

George sighed. Bucky felt it in his soul.

“Bye, Ma. Bye, Dad.”

“Bye, Jimmy. Behave yourself, please.”

“I can’t make any promises, Ma.”

“Try.”

“Bye.”

“Bye, son.” George’s voice was soft and long-suffering. 

 

Bucky watched the red “Call Ended” dot blink on his phone screen. He tugged on his hair and shrugged, even though no one was there to commiserate with him.

“That went well.”

 

*

 

Bye the time Thanksgiving rolled around, Bucky was resigned to the prospect of dying disowned, lonely, and deserted on another continent, buried in test papers and empty Starbucks cups. The Skype calls didn’t help. Neither did the video that Clint sent him of the three-legged, one-eyed dog that he recorded playing an awesome game of fetch with at the park. Clint told Bucky that he was only fostering Lucky until he could be adopted, but Bucky and Wade both knew he’d grown attached. That dog wasn’t going _anywhere_.

“He’s a sweetheart. God, we need to move out of this rathole,” Clint complained. The dog was licking him, fully convinced that he was still puppy-sized as he crowded Clint’s lap. “Don’t we, Pizza Dog?”

“Pizza Dog?” Bucky huffed a laugh. “Nice. That’s what you’ve been feeding it?”

“Yeah, and he answers to it,” Clint clarified. “Even Totino’s pizza rolls.”

“Wow.”

“Right? He ain’t exactly a gourmet. I mean, I eat ‘em. I’m not gonna judge, obviously.”

“Well, you can’t. He’s actually cute.”

“Don’t listen to him, Lucky. You’re _beautiful._. Hey, Buck. I’ve got a question.”

“Lay it on me.”

“Heh. That. That just made my mind go in fun directions. Anyhoo, I might’ve forgotten to file my taxes last year.”

“Geez. Clint.”

“Yeah. It sucks. Hello, fat penalty. So, I have to file back taxes and had to pay extra for last year’s TurboTax. But I’m planning ahead in the meantime.”

“Okay.”

“Can we file jointly on our taxes if you didn’t live here?”

“Seriously, Barton?”

“Hey. Just wonderin’. I mean, that would count for out-of-state income, but technically, we got married. Turbotax asked me if I made any major life changes that would affect my tax outlook, so.”

Bucky huffed. “I thought you’d call me because you missed the sound of my voice, like you told me last week. You just want me for the tax write-off.”

“Um. A, I _do_ miss the sound of your voice. It’s making me pop a _big_ one right now. And B, I just do what Turbotax tells me to do.”

“What else is it telling you to do?”

“Add up my health expenses. Yeah. That’s gonna happen. I can’t even count the number of times I went to the ER and prompt care.”

“Try. That’s a great deduction if you can get it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Seven and a half percent of your income might not look like that big of a deal until you’ve been in a car wreck.”

Clint made an unhappy noise. “You were in a wreck, baby?”

“Long time ago. Got T-boned at an intersection. I mean, I’m here to tell you about it. Yay, me.”

“Shit. Thank God, Buck.”

“Thank my chiropractor, too. And my orthopedic surgeon. I can use my left shoulder.”

“So that’s where you got that scar.” Clint’s voice went soft and reverent. Oh, that voice was doing things to Bucky that made his pants feel too tight…

“Ain’t gonna do a swimsuit shoot any time soon.”

“Yeah, you look _terrible_ in ‘em, now,” Clint mocked.

“Punk…”

“Kidding. Totally kidding. You know how I feel about you in a swimsuit.”

Bucky’s mind wandered again. Back to a small, cramped cruise ship suite. Roaming hands and lips. Clint’s voice in the dark, rough with need. 

Before Bucky could stop himself, he blurted out, “Hey, Clint? What’re you doing this year for Christmas?”


	7. Come On, Bobbi, Light My Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Bucky?”
> 
> Bucky rubbed his eyes and let just how fucked up the situation had grown wash over him for a minute. “Yeah, Becks?”
> 
> “What just happened?”
> 
> “I don’t even know.”
> 
> “Ma’s freaking out again.”
> 
> “I know that.”
> 
> “Okay.” She handed him the stuffed olive jar. Bucky took it and stalked out of the kitchen, where he just couldn’t be right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. So this derailed itself a little since the last installment. Not for long, mind you, because Clint/Bucky is endgame, but I needed some angsty ridiculousness and misunderstanding before I wrap this up. Nothing horrible, I promise. I PROMISE.
> 
> I promise the next chapter is going to be fluffy and smutty. I PROMISE.

Despite the sleeplessness and cramped confines of the jet for the past twenty hours, Bucky almost sprinted up the ramp into the terminal, nearly taking out a mother and her bulky stroller. Bucky beelined his way to the men’s room, both to relieve and compose himself. Predictably, he looked like crap; the mirror above the sink refused to lie to him as he washed his hands. Dark circles smudged his eyes, his hair was jacked up and flat on one side, and he had a drool mark on the corner of his chapped mouth. “Geez…” He decided to splash his face, too, and rinse some of the grit out of the corners of his eyes. At least he would only have to deal with Becca coming to pick him up, and he could stay over at her place to regroup before heading over to Mom and Dad’s. 

Bucky waded through the crowd of weary passengers and filed onto the escalator, glad he didn’t have to trust his own feet for a few moments. The baggage carousels were empty but swamped, and he saw cars and taxis lined up outside. The euphoria he felt about being home battled with his exhaustion. He fished his phone out of his pocket and automatically dialed Becca.

“Hey, big brother!”

“Hey. Guess who’s here at the baggage carousels.”

“Hmmm. Ryan Gosling. Better yet, Ryan Reynolds.”  
Bucky snickered, but it was a halfhearted sound. “I’ll love you forever if you tell me that you’ve already parked the car and you’re on your way in to find me.”

“I’ll do you one better. Turn toward the doors by the Air New Zealand sign. No. The other ones with the Avis posters… there you are.” He caught sight of his baby sister bundled to the teeth in her heavy coat, waving and grinning at him, and she began to charge toward him through the crowd.

“Of course I’m on my way to find you,” she chided as she glomp-tackled him. “Come _here_.”

Bucky groaned in a mixture of relief and joy. “God, Becca. Overseas flights _suck_. I wish it was another cruise.”

“Oh, man, I bet it did. God, you’ve gotten skinny.”

“It wasn’t intentional. I ate well. But then again, I’ve been biking to work.”

“That’ll do it.” Becca pulled away and looked him over. “God, look at your hair. It’s even longer, now. Mom’s gonna be after you to get a haircut.”

“Like hell. I need it to keep my ears warm. It’s cold as balls in here.”

“You’re gonna hafta get used to it again.”

“Only to have to get used to the heat again when I go back.”

But it was freezing cold in the lobby from the sliding glass doors and the breeze coming in from the light rail. Bucky shivered and reached into his carry-on bag, pulling out a thick green scarf and gloves.

“I figured you would forget your hat,” Becca told him smugly, and she produced a gray wool driving cap of George’s and put it on his head.

“Nice,” he murmured.

“Trust me, you’ll need it.”

They waited for the carousel to start moving, and Becca texted their parents. “Just letting them know you’re here.”

“Don’t wake them up.”

“You know Mom. They’re up.”

Bucky shrugged as he began texting Clint.

“What’re you doing?”

“What do you think? Texting my pretend husband.”

Becca bit her lip and shoulder-checked him. “Seriously? Are you still calling him that?”

“I can now, out in the open. Mom and Dad already know.”

“Pffffttt…”

“Well, they do.”

“Maybe you don’t want to use that term around _him_ , dumbass.”

“He’s fine with it,” Bucky huffed, even though what she was suggesting warmed his insides.

“I know, but don’t say it too loudly. He might hear you.”

“What…”

Becca grabbed his arm and spun him around, jabbing her finger in the direction of the windows.  
Clint and Wade stood outside, hands cupped like visors around their eyes and pressed against the glass, peering inside at them. Bucky watched huge grins spread across their faces as they hurried toward the doors. Confusion and excitement bubbled in Bucky’s chest.

“Becca! What… I told him you were going to pick me up! He’s got an early morning tomorrow!”

“He wanted to surprise you, doofus. I mean, c’mon. Look at him.” Becca was grinning, too, as Clint and Wade ran over, tripping over each other and shoving each other out of the way to get to Bucky first. And Bucky handed Becca his phone with its half-typed text and let the handle of his carry-on bag drop so he could meet him halfway. Clint crushed him in a hug that pried a sobbing laugh from Bucky, and he laughed again when he felt Wade collide with them both.

“People are staring. Oh, fuck. Fuck, it’s so good to see you.”

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Welcome back!” That was Wade, in a weepy, high-pitched imitation of a housewife in a Crisco commercial. “We’re so glad you’re home.”

“Wade. Buddy. Can you go hug Becca for a second so I can have a moment with this guy?”   
Bucky pleaded. 

“In a second.”

“Okay. Never mind. Take your time.”

“He’s a little overwhelmed,” Clint told him.

“Okay. That’s. That’s fair.”

“No, but, hey. I haven’t hugged Becca yet. C’mere, baby girl.”

“I was wondering when you’d stop treating me like chopped liver.”

“In fancy circles, it’s called ‘pate.’ But I missed you, too! You Barnes kids are so damned _cute_! I could eat you both up!” Wade released his roommate and his spouse-for-fun and glommed onto Becca instead. She “oofed” and accepted the hug, including the exaggerated hair stroking and loud, smoochy forehead kisses.

“Too much love…” she gasped.

“Hi, again.”

“Hi, again.”

“Look at your hair…”

“Doing my best impression of a cocker spaniel.”

“That’s okay. It’s a look. And I love dogs, so.” Clint’s fingers combed through Bucky’s now-shoulder length locks. His clear blue eyes looked tired, too, but they studied Bucky and shone with emotion. “God, I missed you, baby.”

“Missed you, too.” Bucky didn’t recognize his own voice, all needy and hoarse. _Fuck_.

“Got a kiss for your husband?”

“There’s no mistletoe.”

 

“Write me an IOU.”

“I don’t have a pen.”

“You’ve still got a mouth.”

“I do.”

Clint smoothed Bucky’s hair back from his face. His palms were cool because he hadn’t remembered his gloves, either, like a big dope, but his lips were warm, and his other hand crept inside Bucky’s coat, sliding around his waist. Bucky went with it and simply drank him in, not caring about the crowd, or the dark, smelly airport, or the loud announcements overhead. Clint had a hint of coffee and pizza on his breath, and the kiss felt like sunshine.

When they came up for air, Clint cupped Bucky’s cheek, and their foreheads touched. “Welcome home,” Clint murmured.

“For now,” he reminded him.

“Yeah. I know that.”

“You know that. But, thanks. It’s good to be home.” Bucky leaned in for another brief, sweet kiss. 

“Heads up!” Becca cried out. “Bucky, that looks like your suitcase!”

“I’ll get it.” Clint nudged his way through the crowd. “S’cuse me. Beggin’ your pardon. Let me just get that.” He grabbed the handle of the heavy duffel and hauled it up from the carousel with a grunt. “Shit. What’ve ya got in here, rocks?”

“Among other things,” Bucky promised. “Thanks, baby.”

“Of course.” Clint’s grin was sappy, and he reached down to squeeze Bucky’s hand. They couldn’t stop staring at each other.

“God, I’m going into sugar shock,” Becca muttered. “Let’s go get the car. I’m so ready to hit the couch.”

“Come hit ours,” Wade suggested. “C’mon. Clint even picked up the living room. It looks less like a laundry hamper.”

Becca’s face softened. “You don’t have to put yourselves out. Bucky was going to stay with me, anyway-”

“Awww, no! He could stay with me,” Clint pointed out. “He hasn’t even seen our place, yet.”

“It’s fine. Bucky can do laundry at my place, and I was gonna take him to our favorite little breakfast place in the morning-”

“He still hasn’t been to my gym yet,” Clint pointed out. “I wanted to introduce him to everybody and show him that his husband actually does work for a living.”

Becca bit her lip. Wade raised his brows. 

“Okay. We’re walking. Let’s find the car before the permit expires. It’s gonna be mobbed getting out of here and onto the freeway.” Wade picked up both of Bucky’s suitcases, ignoring his protests, and he and Becca bickered the rest of the way into the parking lot. Clint and Bucky followed them, hands linked.

“You can stay with me,” Clint pointed out.

“I don’t want to put you out.”

“You’re not. I’ve got plenty of room.”

“And a roommate.”

“Trust me, Wilson won’t mind.”

“Are you sure?”

“Trust me. It’s not that big of a deal.”

Bucky gave him a sheepish look. Clint bumped his shoulder up against Bucky’s and returned it with a wheedling expression.

“C’mon, Buck-O. It’s fine. The walls aren’t _that_ thin.”

“You know me.”

“I’d like to get to know you a little more, again.”

“You know I’m not quiet.”

Clint’s face shuttered, and he winced. “Fuck,” he murmured under his breath.

Bucky squeezed Clint’s fingers insistently. “I don’t wanna hafta try to be, either.”

“Okay. So. New plan. Becca. What do you think about staying at our place, and I hang out with Bucky at yours?” Clint called a brief halt to their progress with a gesture. Wade and Becca gaped, making frosty puffs of breath roll out of their mouths in unison. The four of them exchanged flummoxed looks.

Wade reacted first. “What the _what_ , now?”

“Seriously, Clint?!”

“Hear me out-”

“Oh, come one!” Becca folded her arms, rocking on her heels. “Just hook up tomorrow! We’ll figure it out in the morning! You guys can wait one day-”

“Nope. Uh-uh. Can’t.” 

“The thing is, I know he can’t. No impulse control at all. Delayed gratification ain’t in this guy’s dictionary,” Wade informed them all. “And. Actually. It’s not a horrible idea.”

“Oh, like heck it isn’t! I’m not good in sleeping in other people’s houses!”

“Well, technically, it’s a crappy apartment,” Wade told her. “But don’t hurt its feelings. Mi casa es su casa. And you’ll get to meet Lucky.”

That changed her tune. “Lucky?”

“Yeah. Clint might have left out the part where we have a very cute stray that he still never turned back over to the shelter to have adopted out. ‘Fostering’ isn’t in his dictionary, either.”

“I just paid for his papers, had him microchipped, and bought his tags, so I DO know what it means, fuck you very much. And I just so happen to be ignoring that definition.”

“So, we have a dog, now,” Bucky mused.

Clint’s face lit up, and he nodded eagerly. “He’s such a good boy. Nobody’s better at fetch than this guy. You’re gonna love him.”

“You’re gonna have plenty of time to get to know him,” Wade said. “Because I’m going to sleep over at Becca’s.”

Becca opened up her mouth to protest, then closed it again. She shrugged. “That. Might work.”

“I already packed an overnight bag.”

Becca rocked back on her heels again. “Sweet. I just bought some new flannel sheets.”

“Ooh.” Wade let Becca open the trunk of her car, and he loaded the bags into it while Bucky and Clint climbed into the back, without any of the usual arguing for shotgun or claims of who had the longest legs that riding with Becca and Bucky usually entailed.

“Turn on the heat,” Bucky pleaded. “I’m freezing my tits off.”

“I’ll warm ‘em up for you,” Clint suggested. The gleam in his blue eyes gave Bucky no doubt of that, but Becca’s raised hand and tone shot it down immediately.

“Not in the car. Not with us here. Leave my brother’s cold tits alone, Clint, or I’m not your baby sister in law anymore.”

“Didn’t think I’d said that so loud,” Clint confessed. His expression was the smug epitome of “Sorry-not-sorry.” Bucky settled for holding his hand, lacing their fingers together once Clint realized that was what he wanted and tugged his gloves off with his teeth. “Missed you,” he mouthed to Bucky.

Bucky kissed his knuckles in response. His stomach was still fluttering with the reality of having Clint close again, even if it was only for a few days.

And maybe Clint was feeling that excitement, too, because he just kept _rambling_. 

“So, anyhoo. I was thinkin’, Buck-O, I want to take you to my gym at some point and introduce you around, and show you the newest climbing wall, because it’s _awesome_ , and I promised Thor you’d come to visit. He’s never gonna forgive me if I don’t let him meet you. You should see him, the guy’s a frickin’ _giant_ and he sounds all hoity-toity when he talks! You’re gonna love him. Nicest guy ever. Actually, on second thought, maybe I don’t want you to meet him, you might like him better than me.”

“He might,” Wade interjected. “Thor’s pretty dreamy. I’d let him toss my salad.”

“That’s not saying much, Wade. We’ve talked about this. Your standards, and all,” Clint countered.

“Oh, stop!”

“But, yeah. I’d almost hafta give you a pass if you let Thor take you for a ride. Doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t be _heartbroken_ and go cry in the corner if you _did_...”

“Is he blond? I have a thing for blonds,” Bucky teased.

Clint gave him an assessing look, then snorted under his breath. “Do you, now.”

Bucky cocked his brow, gave Clint’s fingers a telling squeeze. Clint pulled their clasped hands into his lap, urging Bucky to sit closer. Bucky unbuckled his seat belt and slid over into the middle passenger seat to accommodate him.

“Seat belts!” Becca barked.

“Click it, mister!” Wade agreed.

“Yeah, yeah…”

It always sucked sitting in the middle, over the hump in the back, especially with his long legs, but Bucky suffered it for the sake of Clint’s drugging, solid warmth and for more furtive, lazy kisses in the dark, with slices of light flickering over their skin through the windows as streetlamps whizzed by.

Wade glanced at them in the rearview mirror and smothered a little sigh.

“What’s up with you?” Becca twisted around in her seat and her smile wavered.

“Nothing. Not a thing. Not one darned, measly little thing.”

He mouthed the word _Later_ , and she faced front again.

“Who else wants some music? I need some music.”

They plugged in the bluetooth and Wade’s holiday playlist piped through the speakers. Wade and Becca traded Black Friday shopping nightmare stories and occasionally sang along with the cheesier selections in Wade’s favorites.

Bucky and Clint tuned them out, breathing each other in. Bucky regretted that by the time the ride was over, he was finally comfortably warm, just in time to climb out of the car into the freezing night.

When they unpacked Bucky’s bags, Wade hurried over to an unfamiliar, pristinely maintained Mustang Cobra with ridiculous purple dice hanging in the mirror. Wade tugged the door open with some difficulty and extracted a large, red and black duffel. He wasn’t kidding. He _had_ packed an overnight bag. The car was parked in Becca’s space, telling Bucky that Clint had planned his pickup at the airport with considerable attention to detail.

“You have an early morning,” Bucky scolded again, voice soft.

“You think I wasn’t gonna come and pick you up after four months?” Clint rocked back on his heels, brows furrowed. “C’mon, man.”

“S’just a lot of trouble to go to, buddy.”

“It was my genuine pleasure.” Clint leaned in and rubbed his nose against Bucky’s, earning himself a poke of umbrage.

“That was the cheesiest thing I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth.”

“Not so cheesy that I can’t get into your pants?”

Bucky held up his forefinger and thumb with very little space in between. “ _Thaaaaaaat_ close.”

“You two are so gross,” Becca moaned. “Gross! Ew! Please, stop!”

And it struck Bucky in that moment that he was doing it again. PDA. Flirting. Sweet talking. 

And Clint. Clint just had that effect on Bucky. It wasn’t just when they were on the cruise ship, pulling a fast one on his parents. Bucky was usually so much more “under wraps” and kept his feelings close to the vest. This was just.

So _much._

Clint ushered Bucky to the passenger side of his car, hand protectively pressed at his lower back. “I’ve been wanting to take you for a spin.”

“Is that a pine tree air freshener?”

“What? Too much?”

Bucky grinned and shook his head. “It’s just. So you.”

This upholstery was leather, and it was freezing under Bucky’s butt, so Clint blasted the heat.

“We’re having popcorn and Netflix, bet you won’t have popcorn!” Wade taunted.

“We’re having sex,” Clint called out from the window before rolling it up.

Becca’s smile was glued on. “I didn’t need that. I didn’t. The confirmation. The mental image. Just. Uh-uh.”

“Yeah. No.”

Clint peeled out of the lot, tires screeching, and Wade and Becca waved after them calmly before Becca picked up his duffel.

“Okay, buddy. Spill it.”

“Let’s wait for popcorn. And alcohol. Do you have alcohol? You’re gonna need it.”

*

Through his haze of exhaustion, Bucky thrummed with excitement as they rode to Clint’s apartment. Texts and Skype were fine to get his “Clint fix” when he needed it, but Bucky longed for - what? Tangible proof of who Clint was from day to day, maybe. Just the mundane details, like, was he a grape jelly man or a strawberry jam guy? How did he fold his socks? Did he make his eggs scrambled or over-easy? Bucky knew the important information already. Clint was a cuddler. Clint preferred the left side of the bed. Clint tended to sleep with one leg sticking out from under the covers. Clint wasn’t afraid of heights. Or risky color combinations. Or mixing alcohol that no sane man would.

Bucky wanted the Clint he hadn’t quite met yet. Maybe even… the Clint Bucky would have gotten to know the old fashioned way, i.e. Actually Dating Him First Because That Was How a Real Marriage Was Supposed to Work. Or even a good fling.

Right?

_Right?_

In Australia, on the cruise ship and in the hotel, Bucky had on his vacation goggles. How would things look with Clint when they both had to punch the clock? Would Clint’s friends even _like_ Bucky? Wade, sure. And Aunt Edith was pretty nice, long distance. How about Lucky, Clint’s new dog?

That’s when it hit him.

_So, we have a dog now._

He’d said that. “We.” That. That sounded so much like… like Bucky… 

Was planning to stick around and co-own a dog. Y’know. Provided that Clint even _wanted_ Bucky to. There was just so much to unpack. Aside from his luggage, because he had to get around to that, too, at some point, but after (lots of) sex.

“Think Lucky will like me?” Bucky murmured.

Clint’s face split into a grin. “Bucky, he’s gonna love you, man. Don’t worry about that. He’s such a sweet boy. Gotta warn you, though. I spoil him a little.”

“Define ‘a little.’”

“I told you that he likes pizza?”

“Geez. That’s right. He does. You did.”

“Please don’t judge him for liking it, or me for feeding it to him.”

“I would never judge you.” Bucky paused a beat. “Not for that, anyway.”

Clint snickered. “Why? Is there anything else I should be worrying about?”

“Dealing with my family at Christmas.”

“Psssshhht. Seriously? I love your mom. Did you notice that she added me on Facebook?”

“Oh, good Lord.” Bucky’s mouth dropped open. “Seriously?!”

“She’s such a kick in the pants. And she does that same little thing when she smiles that you do. S’cute. You’re both just - so cute.”

“Well. Just be you. Y’know? We’re not pretending we just got married. It’s just a family gathering. We’re not. Y’know.”

Clint’s smile faltered. “We’re not what?”

“I don’t know. I’m glad you and Ma get along. That’s nice. Just.”

“You’re going somewhere with this. I’m gettin’ kinda dizzy with all this talkin’ in circles, though, Buck.”

“You don’t have to be all ‘son-in-law’ with Ma if you don’t want to, I guess.”

And as soon as the words left Bucky’s mouth, they felt all wrong. _So_ wrong.

“Well. Okay.”

Clint rubbed his nape, and his grip on the steering wheel was tight.

“I mean, what if.”

Bucky’s heart jumped up into his throat. “What if, what?”

“What if. I mean. What if I like. Know what? Never mind.”

“No, what? What, Clint?”

“I mean. Being all ‘son-in-law’ with your mom. It’s not something that I _mind_. I mean, is it something you don’t want me to _do_?”

Bucky felt a cold wave of relief flood through him. “Is it something you _want_ to do?”

_Pleasesayyespleasesayyespleasesayyes PLEASE don’t let me have completely fucked this up FUCK._

“Yeah,” Clint said softly. “I do. If it’s okay with you.”

“She’s probably bought you socks. I mean, we mentioned that already. She’s on board, if you are. I just. Fuck. I guess I wanted to test the waters. This part’s fun. This part’s been _so_ much fun.”

Clint squinted at him, and the corners of his mouth went on a slow journey. “Which part? The sex?”

“That, too.” Bucky bit his lip. “Y’know. Because it has. But, just, the staying in touch. And weren’t you the one who reminded me it’s almost tax season?”

That made Clint chuckle again. “Yeah, I did say that, didn’t? Bet I sounded like an ass.”

“No, it was a good point. Ink’s barely dry on the marriage certificate, but hey! Turbotax!”

Clint snickered, nodding.

“You’re just so easy to be around, and I don’t know if it’s the jet lag making me sound like a dumb ass.”

“So. Let me get this straight. Now that we’re married, we get to date each other?”

Bucky’s face scrunched up against the laugh that he inevitably failed to suppress. “Jesus. Yeah. That’s. That’s what I’m saying. We can. If you want.”

Clint’s smile was a sly, pleased little thing that lingered in the dark. He reached over and chucked Bucky under the chin.

“You’re all stubbly.”

“This is coming off before my parents start taking pictures.”

“Don’t get rid of it yet.”

*

 

Beaming. That’s what his face was doing. Bucky just _knew_ it.

They pulled into the lot of an unremarkable complex of duplexes framed by simple hedges and rows of metal mailboxes. “This isn’t bad.”

“Not bad for what Wade and I can afford, anyway. We’ve lived in worse places than this.”

“Looks cozy.”

“Tell me that when you see the inside.”

They parked, and once the ignition cut off, Clint murmured “C’mere” and reached for Bucky before he could turn the door handle. Clint cupped Bucky’s nape, threading his fingers through his hair, and he leaned in for a kiss filled with hunger and longing. Bucky’s fingers fisted themselves in the front flap of Clint’s jacket and he made a ragged noise. Heat suffused him as the kiss took on a life of its own. Clint’s tongue swept inside his mouth teasingly, and Bucky let him play, feeling his breathing go choppy. They stayed there for a minute, a preview of what waited behind a locked door.

They broke apart, and Clint stared down at Bucky’s mouth. “Fuck. Not in front of the neighbors.”

“Windows are gonna get all foggy,” Bucky agreed.

“C’mon.”

Clint hauled Bucky’s bag out of the trunk and wouldn’t let him carry it. He tugged him toward the gray door with a slightly rusted number “9” nailed to it, and Clint fiddled with his keys until he found a black octagonal one with Pluto the dog printed on it. He crunched it in the lock and gave the sticky door a kick, letting them inside. Bucky heard scuffling paws and the jingle of tags from the corridor after Clint turned on the hall light. His face broke into a grin, and he knelt down immediately to greet Lucky, who fit the definition of a “mutt” at first glance.

“Daddy’s home! And your new daddy’s home!”

“He doesn’t even look like me.”

“Maybe a little around the eyebrows.”

Lucky “BOOF’ed!” at them both and practically leapt into Clint’s arms, trying to bowl him over and lick him all over at once. “I love you too, baby! Who’s a good boy? Who does Daddy love? This guy, this guy!”

Bucky laughed, shaking his head. “Oh, you don’t spoil him at _all_.”

“Oh, who wouldn’t spoil this sweetie pie?” Lucky whined and rolled onto his back for tummy rubs. 

“What happened to his eye?”

“This fella survived getting hit by a car. The asshole didn’t even stop to see if he was all right. Hit-and-run.” Clint’s tone simmered with anger at the memory. “They had to remove it, but he gets by. He’s healthy. They had to pin his hip, too. He hated his cast.”

“Awww.” Bucky knelt beside Clint and waited for Lucky to greet him. Lucky barked and rolled back up, sniffing at Bucky for a full introduction. “Hey, boy. I’m Bucky!”

“I love that,” Clint told him. “I didn’t name him that on purpose because of - yeah, you know. It just fit him.”

“We’d be having a different conversation if you legit named your dog after me. I don’t know how I’d feel about that.” Lucky nosed at Bucky’s hands and licked them when Bucky turned one palm up and gently scratched the side of his neck. Lucky grew bolder and nosed at Bucky’s face, then licked him right in the mouth. “GAHHHH!”

“He’s just kissing you hello. I told you he’d love you.”

“Love smells like dog kibble right about now.” Bucky tolerated the licking and kept giving him brisk scratches, making his tail just wag and wag. 

“I already walked him before we left. He should be fine tonight.”

“So we can stay in?”

Clint’s eyes crinkled. “That’s the plan.”

Lucky followed them into Clint’s bedroom. Predictably, most of it was purple.

Bucky’s eyes took all of it in and found bits of Clint everywhere. Quivers of expensive looking arrows. Climbing gear piled in a heap atop a papasan chair. A bookshelf filled with workout books and For Dummies manuals. An overflowing laundry hamper and a dresser covered on one side with random Disney and superhero stickers. Stacks of DVDs, half of them movies with dogs in them. There were framed photos hanging slightly crooked in frames, a detail that drove Bucky a little nuts, but some of them were photos Clint had on his Facebook. He saw a few of his Aunt Edith, and some with a man who looked like an older, darker-haired Clint.

“Is that your brother?”

“Yeah. We’re related,” Clint groused. “He’s a big punk. He owes me twenty bucks.”

“Holy shit. Is this you?” Bucky found a picture of the Barton brothers as kids wearing GI Joe pajamas. “Why are you all covered in band-aids?”

“That might have been right after Barney taught me to ride a bike. He didn’t teach me how to use the brakes.”

“Oh, shit.”

Lucky kept nosing and licking at Bucky, and he obliged him by rubbing his ears, but Clint said “No way. No hogging Bucky. It’s my turn. Go lie down. Wade’s room. C’mon, buddy.”

Lucky whined again, and Clint handed him a depleted rawhide bone. “C’mon, Lucky! Go night-night!”

And the dog listened to him, hurrying down the hall. Bucky watched incredulously as the dog hopped up onto the bed, curled up, and started chewing on the bone.

“Wow. That’s a good boy.”

“He’s the best. He loves Wade, too. They have slumber parties.”

“That’s cute.”

“It’s adorable.” And Clint reached around Bucky and clapped the bedroom door shut, pressed him back against it, and kissed him hard. Bucky’s stomach dipped and heat curled in his loins. He let Clint take from him eagerly, feeling his hands working on the zipper of his jacket. Their tongues tangled and they shared breath, pouring gasoline on the flickering blaze. Clint made an urgent sound, and their hands pried at each other’s clothing, shucking each layer and rediscovering every inch of skin.

Clint cradled Bucky’s face in his palms, thunbs grazing his stubble while he drank kisses from his mouth. Oh, Bucky had missed this. His hands crept beneath Clint’s undershirt and stroked his warm skin, molding the contours of his broad, strong back. He reached down and groped his ass, giving it a squeeze.

“Miss that?”

“Hell, yeah, I missed it. I missed _you_.”

“I miss you grabbing it and holding onto it when I’m in you,” Clint husked into Bucky’s neck. “I miss the sounds you make when you take me. Feels so sweet. Missed you so fucking much.”

That admission made Bucky abandon every thought in his head except _Get under him NOW_. He yanked Clint’s undershirt up and off, making Clint yelp a little when the cloth separated their mouths, but Clint just grinned down at him and let Bucky wrestle his briefs off, kicking them off and standing proudly erect, in nothing but his Under Armour socks. Clint pulled him back into his kiss, and he huffed in pleasure when Bucky’s mouth slipped down over his chin and trailed down Clint’s neck.

“Fuck… Yes. Please.” Bucky hummed into his sensitive flesh and continued to lap and nip at the cords of muscle, swirling over his pulse. Bucky’s stubble grazed him in all of the right places, and Clint clutched at Bucky’s long hair. His knees buckled a litle when Bucky reached down and ringed his cock loosely in his fist. It felt stiff, silky and hot, pulsing a little in his grip. Bucky stroked the little vein beneath the head as he took his time with Clint’s neck. Clint was still ripped but no longer tanned. He was still built like a fucking Discobolus statue, all firm muscle and ropey veins. Bucky wanted to map it out with his mouth and rediscover all of his secrets. He still arched into a soft bite of his nipple and moaned low and dirty when Bucky slowly spiraled his tongue around it. “S’nice,” Clint hissed. “Feels nice. God, Bucky…”

Bucky sighed in contentment. He stroked Clint lazily, just a comfortable rhythm, enough to make him twitch and swell in his hand, seeking more friction and attention. He kissed a slow path down Clint’s sternum, tracing the spaces between his ribs. Clint’s abdomen jumped when Bucky’s kisses made him ticklish, but he moaned outright and clutched at Bucky’s hair even tighter when Bucky nuzzled his groin, breathing in the musky scent of his skin.

“ _Bucky._ ” Clint’s voice was desperate. “I was gonna do all the work. Figured you were tired.”

Bucky hummed a denial, glancing up at Clint through his lashes. Above him, Clint’s brow was furrowed, and his eyes were dark with arousal. His lips were rosy and chapped already from their kisses, and his nipples were gorgeously pebbled, nostrils flaring. Clint’s breathing was already uneven, and Bucky watched his face as his lips teased him, stubble and all, dancing over the tender flesh of his inner thigh. Clint rocked on his feet and Bucky breathed over him hotly, kissing the barest, faintest trail up the underside of Clint’s cock. A shudder ran through him, and Bucky lived for that sound.

“Bucky. Bucky. _Bucky_ , oh God... “ Clint’s voice cracked as Bucky feathered the head with darting strokes, barely opening his lips around its slick plumpness. Bucky kept staring up at him, watching him respond and savoring that power. It gave him a rush.

Bucky teased him a little longer, coaxing more of those luscious shivers out of him before he finally took him down, groaning in triumph at the weight and feel of him in his mouth. Clint buckled again, pitching forward a little, and he bent down over Bucky, reaching for his undershirt. His fingers scrabbled over it, scraping Bucky’s skin a little as he bunched it in his fist, hovering with indecision of whether or not to take it off and interrupt the blowjob for even a second, but still needing to see Bucky completely bare. Bucky’s eyes projected his amusement, and he helped Clint make up his mind, reaching up and grabbing the shirt from Clint’s fist. He pulled it over his head but never broke the contact. Up over his chin, letting his hair tumble down in a mess over his shoulders, with some of the strands getting into his eyes. Bucky let the shirt dangle over the shaft of Clint’s cock while he continued to suckle the head.

Clint huffed a laugh. “Okay. That works, too.”

Bucky’s eyes told him _For my next trick_ as he pulled Clint in shallowly with withdrew, just enough to get him worked up. Clint’s hips jerked, and he held himself in check, resisting the urge to snap himself forward and down into Bucky’s throat. Clint prized the discarded shirt up, backed his way out of Bucky’s mouth for a split second, and cast it onto the floor. Bucky took Clint back inside on a chortle.

“Be nice,” Clint chided.

Bucky pulled off of him just long enough to tell him, “I am.”

“No. That. That was you… being a bad boy. Bad Bucky.” His tone changed when Bucky drew him in deeper. “Good. Okay. Good Bucky. Oh, God…” 

Clint gave Bucky the control he wanted, done with words for the moment, but his low cries grew in volume and urgency. Bucky dragged his blunt fingernails down Clint’s thighs and the sides of his hips, making him buck and push himself further into his mouth, into that lush heat. His body was Bucky’s playground, his to grope and caress while he pushed Clint closer to the edge. Bucky tasted a ripple of saltiness on his tongue, and it was so tempting to keep going. And they could revisit the rest later on, if they wanted. Bucky closed his eyes, enjoying Clint’s tension and the way he was coming apart.

“No, baby,” Clint pleaded. “No. Not yet. I wanted… oh, God…”

Bucky hummed around him and bobbed his head faster, taking Clint right down his throat, and Clint’s hands shook a little as he scraped Bucky’s hair back from his face. Bucky felt him jerk in his mouth and tasted him when he finally burst. Clint cried out, body arching, hips pumping against his own volition. Almost pained, choking little breaths punched their way from his chest. Bucky swallowed him down and finished him with short, sharp little strokes, nursing Clint through his climax.

“You weren’t. S’posed t’do that.”

“Sorry.” Bucky kissed the tip, and it gave a twitch of disbelief.

“You’re the one who just got off the plane.”

“I’m gonna sleep really well. So’re you.”

Clint shook his head. “C’mere.” He pulled Bucky to his feet, and his knees were wobbly and rug-burned. He reached down and scooped Bucky up, carrying him to the unmade bed. Clint sat down and held Bucky straddled on his lap. Clint leaned up and kissed Bucky’s jaw.

“Next time, let me get ready. And let me take care of you.”

“I got tested before I came home,” Bucky admitted. “I haven’t been with anybody since the cruise. I’ll do better, though. Promise.”

“I did too, me either, and I bought out the shelf of condoms from CVS this morning. Still. I wanted to take care of you tonight.”

“You can still tuck me in.”

“I can do that.”

*

 

They must have dozed off, Bucky realized. He woke up to the sensation of Lucky snuffling at his neck and shoulder and promptly licking his face when Bucky jerked his head up.

“What’s up, pup?” he murmured. “Hey. Hi, there.”

“Shit,” Clint moaned. “What time is it?”

“Three,” Bucky said blearily.

“Geez. Okay. So, this happens once in a while. I’ve gotta take him out.”

“Shit. Clint, it’s freezing out. Bundle up.”

“I know.”

“Hurry back.”

Clint grinned down at him and kissed Bucky’s shoulder. “I will.”

Clint scrambled commando into his sweats, crammed his bare feet into a pair of basketball sneakers, tugged on his undershirt and a hoodie and yanked the hood up.

“That’s not enough clothes!”

“It’ll only be a few minutes. It’s okay. Lucky just needs to water a few bushes. Won’t take long.” Clint leaned down and kissed him again. “You look good in my bed.”

Bucky smirked. “I’ll keep it warm for you.”

Clint gave him a wicked look before he led Bucky out of the room. Bucky heard the jingle of the leash and the brief slam of the front door.

The sheets smelled like Clint. The room was cluttered, but comfortable, and Bucky already felt like he’d come home.

*

 

“Becca. Please say something. You’re scaring me.”

Becca just stared ahead, agape.

“Beck. Beckers? Beckaboo? Yo. Talk to me, sister.”

“Wade.”

“Yeah.”

“This. This is just. SO MUCH TO UNPACK. What the HELL.”

Wade opened his mouth, then closed it, and he finally, simply nodded. “Yup.”

“How does this even HAPPEN?”

“Yeah. Funny story…”

“No. This. It’s not. It’s _so_ not. I mean, maybe in a straight-to-cable bad romance kind of way, it is, but no, never mind, this is _terrible_. Wade. _Wade_. What the _fuck._ ”

Wade sighed. He picked at the last dregs of popcorn in the bowl. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Tell me this isn’t real.”

“Baby doll, I can’t. I wish more than anything in the world that I could just - yeah. No. I can’t. This is a wrinkle.”

“This isn’t just a ‘wrinkle’.”

Becca sank back into the couch cushions. They sat bumped shoulder to shoulder under a fleece Hello Kitty blanket that Wade squealed over as soon as she took it out of her linen pantry. An episode of the Great British Bakeoff played on her plasma screen, throwing flickers of bluish light over their faces in the darkened living room.

“I don’t even know what to say.”

“Yeah, well. Neither did I when this came up.”

“What time is she due to come back to town?”

“Sometime tomorrow.”

“No. Wade. We need her itinerary. We need to do some damage control. Bucky wants to bring Clint to Mom and Dad’s for Christmas Eve brunch. We’re talking photographs in terrible sweaters and a walnut cheeseball and Lil’ Smokies.”

Wade made a face of rapture. “God, why is Clint the lucky one who slept with your brother?”

“Focus, Wade.”

“Sorry, sorry.”

“Who _does_ this?”

Wade sighed and rolled his eyes at Becca, throwing up his hands.

“Scratch that, then. Who does this _twice?_ ”

“See. Here’s the thing. The last time around, we weren’t even sure the certificate was legal. Tequila was consumed. Questionable decisions were made.”

Becca asked the real question on her mind. “Who asked who first?”

“Huh?”

“Who _proposed_?”

Wade sighed. He shrugged and threw up his hands again. “Does it matter?”

“I guess not.”

“Fuck. She did. Okay? It was her goofy ass idea. And the thing is, this wouldn’t even be a conversation we’re having except that my bonehead roommate/slash ex forgot to file his taxes last year. He forgot if he could file as ‘Married but Filing as Single.’ And apparently, now that he’s married AGAIN, this is still in QUESTION.”

Bucky tipped her head back and slapped her hand over her eyes. “Oy.”

“So she’s coming back on Christmas Eve. Then what?”

“She’s bringing divorce papers. Thing about Barbara - Bobbi, though, because she hates Barbara, don’t call her that - is that she travels a lot. I mean, that’s how they met. They had the honeymoon before they had the actual marriage. Sound familiar?”

“Okay. And it sounds _bad_.”

“And she just kept leaving town. And the country. Which. Also sounds kinda familiar. Clint kinda wondered where he fit in this equation. I’ve got to give it to him, though. He was patient. Poor guy was the textbook definition of blue balls. Three months in, and Mrs. Clint Barton Skyped him ‘Dear John,’ and that was all she wrote. Wrote. Skyped. Yeah. It was bad.”

“This happened how long ago?”

“Two years.”

“And they’re just now getting a divorce?!”

“They’ve been working on that paperwork for a while, long distance. They didn’t have much shared property. Clint was a little disgruntled when she wanted the souvenir sombrero they bought in Cancun. It looked good on him.”

“Did he love her?”

“Honestly? I mean. They had chemistry. There was heat, but… you know, I’ll let you decide that for yourself. I mean, I know what it’s like to love Clinton Francis Barton. I do. It’s. It’s insane, and exciting, and you know it’s a horrible decision, like wearing a new pair of shoes to work before you’ve broken them in at home for a couple of hours. And we tried, damn it. We did. He was a sweetheart. And I still want him in my life, even if it’s just to be a bystander at the station when the train derails.” Wade sighed. “And the thing is, I don’t think she could have loved him like that, because it was pretty damned easy for her to pick up and leave.”

“I just don’t know what to say.”

“This wasn’t easy for me.”

“No. You’ve had a full day. Work. Trip to the airport in the middle of the night. And blowing my fucking mind and dropping a secret into my lap that’s going to break my brother’s fucking heart.”

“Maybe it-”

“No. It will. Like you said, you know what it’s like to love Clint. So does Bucky. Bucky is totally gone on him. _So_ far gone.

Wade’s expression was pained. “Fuck,” he mouthed.

“How do we break it to him that his pretend marriage is actually _illegal?_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. I lied a little because the next chapter is going to be Part Two of THIS one. Don't hate me.


End file.
